Ciel and Sebastian: His Butler, At Leisure
by JackOwens1860
Summary: After healing from wounds inflicted by closure of his latest investigation in the name of the Crown, Ciel finds himself listless and unhappy. Sebastian suggests a holiday on the Cornish coast may lift his spirits. The boy agrees if only to get away from Her Majesty's constant badgering. Little does he know as a Phantomhive, running from one inconvenience often leads to another.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Following on from my previous arc, Ciel is having trouble sleeping. Sebastian suggests a holiday in Cornwall to settle his melancholy. Eventually, the boy agrees. This is merely to set the scene. Expect mysteries to abound in later instalments. Enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian: His Butler, At Leisure**

Sebastian was a sleeping aficionado despite not requiring sleep to function. He did not dream as humans did, nor did he wish to. He was content in revel in the unending blackness that characterised his inner being for hours at a time. Sleep was a way to understand death since he had often been led to believe nothingness and the termination of life converged at some juncture. The demon had seen many of his former masters succumb to this terminal condition in his company, largely due to his own actions, but never yet confirmed death for a human meant nothing remained afterwards. The souls harvested were not proof of an ethereal life for humans. They were just proof of a fulfilled contract, a repayment of a loan, and a reason for him to continue on in the physical world. They did not represent the final product of human existence. That, at least to Sebastian, remained a mystery.

Tonight, Sebastian had slept for three hours, rising at one in the morning to begin household chores while peace and tranquillity were still intact within the manor's walls. He walked the corridors with a candelabra in hand, knowing already he would begin his duties in the kitchen. Once there, the butler stood before a vast cabinet filled from top to bottom with different blends of tea, organised by the alphabet and the continent of origin. Each tin of loose tea leaves had either one, two or three individual marks underneath its name. These corresponded to their status as awarded by the master's frank reviews. 'Passable', 'average' and 'not bad' were the three current grades the boy awarded his morning and afternoon teas, but nothing more. One mark indicated passable with three marks reaching the lofty heights of 'not bad'. The majority of teas were marked as average. Sebastian had provided his master with dozens of different tea blends over the years, whittling down a list of a thousand to one of less than sixty-five which he rotated through every six weeks.

This morning's tea, the demon decided, would not be another Darjeeling: the master was sick of Darjeeling. He could tell just by his soured expression that Darjeeling was beginning to bore the boy, even if he maintained it was 'passable'. He opted for the black leaf English Rose tea, a blend he knew had a calming effect on his master that few other beverages could replicate without copious amounts of sugar. Now settled with the morning's most important decision, Sebastian shifted his attentions to what to serve at breakfast. Thirty minutes later, after laboriously selecting spinach and cheddar omelette with an accompaniment of braised mushroom tips as the meal and the master's light green suit for today's attire, the demon left the rooms below stairs and ventured up to begin cleaning duties.

After cleaning and dusting through the majority of the ground floor, Sebastian entered the master's study. The master sat behind the desk, musing through business-related materials in nothing but his nightshirt. When their respective lights intercepted one another, bathing the whole room in the soft flicker of candlelight, the pair regarded one another in silence. The boy, Sebastian observed, was not wearing his patch. His pentagram glowed slightly, reminding the demon of the prize growing beyond measure within and why starvation was so noble a state for him to undertake in pursuit of one soul. He regarded his pocket watch. It was barely after three.

"I apologise for disturbing you, Young Master. I will close the door and knock for entry." The demon said turning on his heel.

"Don't bother. You'd only waste my time in doing so. I take it you've come to clean my study?" The boy said with his usual cruelty. Sebastian nodded without turning around.

"That's correct, Sir. But since you are working, I will return when it is more convenient."

"And I take it you've developed a sudden aversion to addressing your remarks to my face in the last minute?" The master responded with a tone that spoke slightly of something other than irritation or annoyance. The demon struggled to place it but turned back to face the boy before conducting a brief bow.

"I did not mean to be improper, Master. Your current state merely suggested you did not wish anyone to see you at this time. I did not wish to antagonise you." The boy leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"You aren't a person. You may walk and talk like one, but so can a string puppet." He said before opening his eyes and levelling them on the demon, "And I have the same lack of regard for either you or it seeing me like this." Sebastian knew if he were human, such a scathing remark would cause offence. As it was, he found the master's caustic remarks very witty and adopted an amused smile at the analogy.

"I am your Pinocchio, Master." He said with another bow. The boy smiled. He did not sneer or smirk. He smiled at his butler, a gesture Sebastian knew embodied his master's true affection for him since the boy rarely gifted anyone else with it.

"I like how cruel I can be to you, Sebastian. It stops me being so to others less deserving of scorn and derision. In any case, I'm not busy with work. I'm having trouble sleeping." The master said without false bravado or embarrassment. Sebastian liked how the boy could be honest with him and not spin an intricate web of lies as was commonplace with those in his secular world. The demon drew close.

"May I ask what you believe the cause of this trouble is?"

"I suppose the stress of recent months is beginning to follow me. After the circus and the elaborate parlour games played by Earl Grey and Master Phipps on the Queen's behalf, I feel unwell." The master admitted before shrugging. "Not physically though. My wounds are healed. It is my mind that is melancholic." Sebastian set his candelabra on the desktop.

"Such a mental ailment often proves more deadly than a physical disease. Perhaps it is time for a holiday, Master, to rid you of your melancholy and woe." The demon suggested as the boy planted an elbow on the table and rested his head upon it. Sebastian could see reluctance to accept such a suggestion. It was nothing new. Coaxing the master into revelry that served no ulterior purpose was almost an impossible feat.

"I doubt there is anywhere on this earth distant enough for Her Majesty and this realm's problems not to find me. I am anticipating another unwanted task any day now." The boy replied with a tired sigh. "Sometimes I think both my sovereign and my country must truly despise me to assign such unpleasantness so routinely."

"Considering her displeasure when dealing with Lord Winslow, I doubt she will be pulling you into the spotlight anytime soon. And I would wager neither her nor your country despise you, Sir. They merely have never encountered anyone else like you. Your abilities to eliminate this realm's problems, no matter their standing or difficulty, likely scare Her Majesty and her subjects, since you are so young and already so powerful in influence." Sebastian was incapable of lying, something he knew even the most pious of human beings could not claim. He was certain his master was aware of this unique trait as well. The boy regarded him in silence, studying him in the dancing light of the flames.

"Do you think I'm scary, Sebastian?"

"To an adult, especially one who is used to being generally superior in body and mind to a child, you present a terrifying prospect. After all, there was very few children in the world who wield the power and authority you command and even fewer who know exactly how to exploit it." The demon said only for his master to roll his eyes in displeasure.

"That is not an answer to my question. I did not ask about adults, I asked if you think I am scary. So?"

"And I answered, Young Master. I think you are frightening to others. However, I myself am not afraid of you. This is only because I am afraid of nothing in this world or any other. I think that I respect you should be enough, certainly where servitude is concerned." He watched the boy frown at his answer before dismissing the entire avenue of conversation with a hand gesture.

"Enough inflating my ego. Where would you have me go to holiday?"

"To Penzance and your cottage by the sea."

"Even though I told you of my desire to summer in Cambridge this year?"

"With all due respect, Sir, it is not summer yet. And both the sea and salt air will do you and your constitution some good. We do not need to go for long, a week or so at the most if you cannot tear yourself from your duties for an extended period of time. We might take your other servants as well. They would all enjoy a more tranquil and leisurely atmosphere for a time. Perhaps the only way their mood could be further improved by a week in Penzance is if they knew you were enjoying it too." Sebastian offered with a smile before reaching over and gently brushing through his master's hair with a feather-light touch. "I do so like to see you ruthless and bloodthirsty in your efforts, an attitude that can only be sustained so long before rest and recovery are required."

"What makes you think you can touch me in that manner and get away with it?" The boy snapped. The butler reached over again, this time settling his hand on his master's cheek and stroking the skin with his thumb.

"For the same reason my seeing you so improperly dressed is not an issue: because I am not a person, just your personal puppet. Since you control me, I cannot act in any way that truly displeases you. I can be familiar with you because you do not find it offensive. In fact, although you may always deny it, I believe you even like such attention from time to time." Sebastian said without removing his hand. The boy responded to this by placing his over the top of it, his family ring shimmering in the soft light surrounding them.

"That a demon understands me better than my fiancée is a source of never-ending embarrassment. You already know that I no more pull your strings than the Queen does mine. We are all somebody's puppets, Sebastian, someone's own personal Pinocchio. It is a sad but true fact that the only satisfaction humans have in life is the power to manipulate others for their own ends or amusement. I do not control you, Sebastian: you allow yourself to be controlled by me. I am grateful for the privilege." When the boy's thumb stroked his gloved hand, the demon knew he had taken enough liberties with the master for one night. He gently slipped his hand out from under the boy's and inclined his head.

"Shall I pack your belongings for Penzance, Sir?"

"Yes. Tell the others to pack as well. I wish to leave shortly after breakfast. If all goes to plan, we should arrive there by nightfall."

"Yes, My Lord. Might I suggest you return to bed for a few hours to ensure a good mood for this morning's meal?"

"You may suggest it," His master said standing up, "however, I am not totally void of common sense and was intending to return to bed in any case. Wake me when you have something other than Darjeeling to drink and toast points to serve." The boy added walking past him with his candle in hand. Sebastian's eyes followed his master's exit and then the faint glow of his candle as it illuminated the corridor before being swallowed by the blackness. The demon thought of his empty dreams and smiled. When he had taken the boy's soul, he would have his answers. With Ciel Phantomhive, he knew something would be left behind: the boy was too strong not to linger on in some form or another. Sebastian closed his eyes and nodded.

"Yes, My Lord."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: The set-up for the remainder of the plot is introduced towards the end of this chapter. We will learn much more upon visiting the next chapter. Enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian: His Butler, At Leisure 2**

Ciel had acquiesced to Sebastian's suggestion he take the whole contingent of servants with him on his holiday. It only seemed fair, since their conduct of late had been so lacking in calamity. Since they only had one carriage to ferry all of them to Cornwall, and four people would not fit on the driver's seat, the boy had decided to have the demon as their driver and position himself on the seat alongside. Baldroy, Finnian and Mey-Rin were then forced to endure a day-long journey inside the carriage with Snake and all his friends, something Ciel privately thought amusing since no member of the household, except Sebastian, liked reptiles. The boy supposed if snake venom could not even cause demons pain much less death, Sebastian had no reason to dislike them in the same way he had no recourse with lions because they were incapable of crushing his skull. They were five hours removed from the manor and approaching half-one in the afternoon when stopping to rest the horses for the first time.

Everyone took this opportunity to stretch their legs, especially the trio who had been trapped with four snakes since the morning. All three of them put as much distance between Snake and themselves as possible whilst the footman and his companions seemed to talk amongst themselves about the landscape and expectations in Penzance. Ciel hopped down and wandered to where his butler was attaching hay bags to their magnificent black beasts, patting them amicably for their efforts. The demon had an affinity for horses, the boy noticed: they always responded better under his charge then Baldroy's or indeed any other driver to have commanded them, including Tanaka.

The old man had politely declined the offer of a holiday, preferring to stay and tend to the manor. Ciel knew he would not be swayed on the matter, being too much of a stalwart to shirk the responsibilities of a servant, even for just a single week. The boy wanted to voice his disappointment to his family's most faithful retainer, but too respected him to speak so negatively of so kind and gentle a man. Ciel patted one of the horses himself before stroking the length of its mane.

"How far until we reach the Cornish border?" He asked Sebastian who was already standing by with second hay bags for both animals as well as buckets of water since no troughs were available.

"We should reach Cornwall in another three hours, Master. Would you prefer to sleep for this portion of the journey? I would not mind entertaining the others if you wished to recline within the carriage." The demon replied, changing the hay bags as he finished his initial query. The boy scoffed.

"Don't be absurd. They can't all fit on the driver's seat when it is merely the four of them. To add you to that equation would endanger everyone's safety for the journey. No, we will keep things as they are. We will address the problem when and if I require sleep."

"Yes, My Lord."

Ciel awoke sometime in the late evening, an hour or so before dusk descended on the landscape. He glanced up at his butler with bleary eyes, wordlessly asking him how much further was left to go. Sebastian smiled at him.

"Another seventy or so miles, Young Master. Please sleep until then. I will wake you upon our arrival."

The boy let his head fall back into the demon's lap, pulled the blanket that had mysteriously manifested since he first closed his eyes over cold shoulders and resumed his peaceful slumber. He was roused what seemed like an eternity later and sat up to confront the intrusion. Before them was the white-washed cottage he recalled from a lost youth amongst his parents and the ignorance of childhood. It sat some twenty feet from the edge of the coast and looked dark and foreboding in the twilight that now enveloped the land. Ciel knew from experience it was one of the least sinister structures he had come across in his short life and found only comfort in seeing it again. The waves crashing into the cliffs below and tang of salt in the air helped reduce its visual menace further until its tranquil true character could emerge to the assembled party.

"Here we are, Master, Bridgend Cottage. Are you ready to retire for the evening?" Sebastian inquired as the boy put his blanket to one side.

"Yes. Have the others bring the bags into the cottage. They may sleep downstairs in the two small bedrooms at the rear of the property. I will sleep in the master bedroom. I wish to be in bed within the next fifteen minutes." Ciel instructed whilst stifling a yawn.

"Yes, My Lord."

The awkwardness of his sleeping position and unwelcome periods of consciousness during the ride had left him stiff and irritable he found when stepping down from the carriage, a far from ideal start to his supposed holiday. However, all the baggage was expediently transported into the cottage, the other servants proving they were as eager for sleep as their master was in silently moving it. By the time Ciel had ascended the stairs, all of them were out of sight and the whole house was still. The only light in the darkness emanated from the candelabra Sebastian trailed just in front of him as he was led into the master bedroom. It was a small but cosy space with a large double bed against the back wall, a generously-sized armoire against the right wall and an expansive latticed window engulfing most of the left wall. The room's character was far more intimate than his bedroom at the manor, something that made Ciel feel oddly content as he was divested of his travelling clothes and dressed in his usual nightshirt.

"Are you comfortable enough, Young Master?" Sebastian asked whilst draping the duvet over the boy's slight frame with a delicacy Ciel always found odd coming from a man. He nodded.

"Quite comfortable." The boy murmured as the demon gently relieved him of his eyepatch.

"Then I shall leave you until the morning." Sebastian said placing the patch on the nightstand nearby before taking control of his candelabra.

"You may sleep in the guest room if you wish." Ciel said with closed eyes as he buried his face into the soft body of his pillow.

"A kind offer, Sir, but I must attend to the horses and bed them down for the evening as well."

"The others should have seen to that." The boy remarked in a distant voice that marked the beginnings of unconscious thought. He barely understood the demon's reply, such was the vast chasm developing between his ears and his brain.

" _They are all tired, Master. Let them sleep as you do."_

"What…ever…"

Ciel was awoken the next morning as fresh sunlight warmed his face. The boy opened his eyes slowly to adjust to the blinding quality of the new day and found Sebastian stood by a miniature tea trolley upon which a full-sized tea set was precariously balanced.

"Good morning, Master. Today's tea is a Ceylon black leaf with silver tips from Sri Lanka. It enjoys a light and plain flavour, highlighted by notes of pine and honey and is a great accompaniment to any meal." The demon said cheerily, pouring the tea as he gave his description and passing it to the boy upon finishing his final sentence. Ciel sipped it with lingering drowsiness only to perk up when its sweet flavour hit his tongue. He nodded.

"This is actually quite good." The boy commented. His butler looked visibly surprised by the judgement.

"Are we adjusting our scale to accommodate this new rating, Sir? I assume 'quite good' will be the new standard to achieve in future?"

"Don't be impertinent." Ciel said haughtily before gazing out the window at the blue skies. "It seems today's weather will be pleasant."

"Yes. The barometer in the hall claims today will be 'sunny and bright' with a minimal chance of rain. I wondered if you would care to begin your day with a swim in the sea before breakfast. I think such activity would be a very good way of formally beginning your holiday."

"I suppose it has been some time since I last swam for pleasure and not mere survival." The boy mused before taking another sip of his tea. He turned to Sebastian. "Very well. Rouse the others to begin preparations for breakfast. You and I will make our way to the cove just below the cliff. Bring the necessary equipment and ensure they do not disturb me until my return."

"Yes, My Lord."

Ciel naturally found the sea water unpleasant when first entering the shallows. Accustomed to taking hot baths and enjoying opulent surroundings during such an activity, the cold waters and stark horizon seemed altogether a more of a punishment than a reward for recent efforts. However after twenty minutes of gliding through the water, gently assisted by the ebb and flow of the tide, the boy found himself beginning to relax and even enjoy the sensations of such a simple pleasure. He had almost forgotten in recent years how just floating in the water and closing your eyes could bring feelings of peace that few other experiences could replicate. So he drifted aimlessly in the sea, as weightless and carefree as a feather caught in a breeze, until the waves finally brought him to rest upon the shore and sand some ten minutes later. He opened his eyes to find Sebastian looming over him with towel in hand.

"Did you enjoy your swim, Young Master?" The demon asked seeming to instinctively understand the boy would not venture out into the waters again this morning. Ciel did not move from his languid and undignified position splayed on the sand in replying.

"I suppose it was not a wholly terrible idea."

"I must say I did not envision you taking to such activity without some form of clothing. It seems a very brave choice for a boy of your age and position."

"Considering such a practice was also embraced by my predecessor, and the fact you are my only form of audience, I am surprised you bothered to volunteer such an idiotic observation in the first place." The boy answered scathingly whilst pulling himself to a seated position. He then considered whilst looking out on the ocean. "Perhaps my holiday will not prove to be as troublesome as I thought if this becomes the standard." Ciel said as the towel was set upon his shoulders with strong, lean fingers.

"Since I did not hear you stir once in your sleep last night, I would hope your melancholy is fading somewhat." Sebastian responded as he dried his master's narrow shoulders and back. The boy offered a dubious smile at the prospect.

"I hope so."

Breakfast proved to be another casual affair, far removed from the pomp and circumstance of his usual dining experience. Ciel felt somewhat underdressed when sat with an open-collared shirt and no ribbon to fasten it together, but also found it liberating to be free of higher etiquette for the time being. Today he wore a white French shirt, pleated dark brown shorts with navy-blue socks and a hardy pair of walking boots for the morning's stroll through the countryside. Sebastian completed his leisurely ensemble with a beige waistcoat and tweed jacket, both of which the boy had once thought he would never find an excuse to wear. He ate his meal of blueberry-decorated oatmeal quickly, having worked up quite an appetite during his swim, but drank his fresh cup of Ceylon in the leisurely manner he hoped to tackle everything with in the coming days.

The others were instructed to clean the cottage, prune the small crowd of English roses near the front door, make preparations for the evening meal and then to enjoy themselves in the cove or amongst the majestic beauty of the coastline until their return. Ciel wished to walk down to the nearby village to take in the scenery. Sebastian accompanied him with a packed lunch.

"How far is the village?"

"Bartleby-on-Sea is less than two miles from the cottage, Master." The demon answered hovering just behind the boy's shoulder so as not to set the pace or ruin his master's stride. Ciel nodded as his walking stick helped to propel him forward with great energy.

"Excellent. We shall arrive there in a half-hour or so at this pace."

"Indeed. You seem to be full of verve this morning, Sir. It is nice to see."

"Your constant hawking of this place has evidently made me somewhat optimistic. I hope for your sake, such optimism is not misplaced." The boy sneered as they crested a small hill and were able to look down into the lush and green landscape below cradled by the sun's warmth.

"So do I, My Lord."

"Is there much in the village beyond the usual amenities?"

"Not in so far as I can tell. However…" Sebastian trailed off rather abruptly. A moment later the boy heard his butler's feet grind to a halt. Almost immediately after, Ciel stopped in place too as his eyes identified what the demon had already spied. Nestled amongst a patch of long grass near the cliff edge was the distinct form of a young boy lying face down on a large rock with an eerie stillness that could only belong to a corpse. A large patch of dried blood circled his blond head like a gruesome halo. Ciel and Sebastian exchanged glances before their feet began to move forward again to investigate.

"Less than a day, Sebastian. Less than a day and already we find ourselves amongst the recent dead." The boy said bitterly as they closed to less than five feet from the body. Ciel heard his butler draw breath to issue what he assumed was an apology but nothing else. The corpse's head suddenly reared up from the rock it was pressed against. Bright green eyes of a boy no older than ten or eleven met theirs. There was a deathly quiet between the two parties for several moments before their companion's sun-kissed face broke out into a white-toothed grin. He spoke in a voice as bright and airy as the rest of him, greeting them with one simple word.

"Hi."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Here's the mystery as it stands. The boy Ciel and Sebastian encounter proves to be a handful as do Ciel's own wishes weighed against his true nature in deciding to investigate this new mystery. Enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian: His Butler, At Leisure 3**

Both master and servant did not respond to their companion's greeting as the unknown boy clambered to his feet and approached them.

"Are you sightseers? You must be with those skin tones." The youth said regarding them with a curiosity so innocent and devoid of ill-intent that Ciel almost thought he could be talking to an angel. "I don't see many around here, with it being so far away from everything else. My name's Clarence and I live in the village just down the road. I don't suppose you need a guide, Sirs?" He added amicably whilst offering a sheepish shrug and hopeful smile. The older boy wanted to say no and simply forget the strange activity they had just seen before continuing on to the village. However, he found his own natural curiosity was very willing to run his mouth for him when offering a reply and scupper such a peaceful wish in favour of more hassle.

"No, we don't. May I ask what on earth you were doing just now lying face down on the ground like that? You looked like you may have been the victim of very tragic circumstance." Ciel said. Clarence indicated the bloody halo that still lay upon the rock.

"Well, I found the blood on this rock yesterday afternoon and wanted to know how it got there. I tried to figure it out all yesterday evening but couldn't figure what sort of injury could cause it. Then it hit me, square in the face. Whoever's blood it is had smashed their head on the rock, probably brained themselves in the process. I was pretending to be the dead person just now, to see if my idea was sound enough. But it's still so far from the edge of the cliff that the person couldn't have just fallen over the side and shattered themselves on the rocks below like an egg. And there's no other blood anywhere nearby. I thought maybe they got up and walked away, but there's too much blood for somebody to do that. Whoever hit the rock has to be dead. But where's the body? It's weird right?" The blond boy said breathlessly, his already large eyes widening with every new piece of information divulged to his audience until they looked fit to burst from the excitement of it all.

"I take it you are something of an amateur detective?" Sebastian said to the younger boy with an amused smile. Clarence nodded feverishly.

"I love mysteries like this! I also like guessing what people do by the way they dress or talk! I'm really good at it too! You're obviously this lord's butler from your uniform and manner. I'd guess you were the head butler too, judging from that fancy pin on your jacket. Am I right?"

"You are quite correct, my young sleuth, quite correct. Bravo. And what might you infer about my young master from his appearance and manner?"

"He's only got one eye for starters, but that's pretty obvious from an eyepatch. I'd guess…he's around thirteen maybe because he's only a little taller than me, but still taller than my twelve-year-old friends in the village. From his clothes, he's very rich, richer than I'll ever be, and because of his pale skin probably spends a lot of time indoors." Clarence said almost casually before scrutinising Ciel again with a visible frown as if something had just struck him about the older boy. "Do you run a sweet company in London? I read in the papers that there's a boy who runs a sweet company without any parents to help him. Is that you?"

"If you are referring to the Funtom Company, then yes, I am its owner." The older boy said with palpable indignity at being addressed in such a familiar manner by so obvious a member of the working-class. That this blond boy had talked about him to Sebastian whilst mere feet away from them both showed a lack of respect and courtesy that indicated he had yet to be taught proper manners, a frightening prospect at his age. Clarence's eyes, seemingly stretched to their absolute limit already, managed to defy natural law and widened again at this admittance.

"Then that would make you, Ciel Phantomhive, the boy detective." The youth said with obvious admiration in his voice. Ciel frowned at being given a moniker that would not look out of place in Punch Magazine and having his accolades and achievements reduced to nothing but stories for the amusement of a country boy. He was about to voice his displeasure when Clarence dropped to his knees and bowed to him in an archaic gesture of worship. The older boy was lost for words. "I follow your adventures in London very closely! I think you're amazing, solving mysteries and crimes like you do!" The blond boy informed him whilst almost planting his face in the ground. Ciel was beginning to find their new companion's behaviour very humiliating for them both, but tried to be kind.

"Thank you. Please get up. I'm not a king." The older boy instructed gently. Clarence raised his head, but did not get to his feet. Instead he clasped his hands together as if in prayer and adopted the doleful expression of someone preparing to beg for a favour.

"Would you help me solve my mystery please? I'd be ever so grateful if you could. In fact, I'd be so grateful I'd make you a cake to eat! My mum taught me how and everyone says I do a very good job! Please help me? Please, Mr Phantomhive, please?" Ciel sighed lethargically before looking from this grovelling commoner to the demon stood at his shoulder, mutely asking for advice. Sebastian offered a smile and nod to indicate his master should be cordial to such a display.

"He does seem like such a sweet boy that, to deny his little request would be like breaking his favourite toy and just as devastating." The butler said aloud so that their companion could also hear him endorse the request. Ciel, seeing he could not win in this particular scenario, rolled his eyes and emitted another deep sigh at being strong-armed yet again.

"Fine. Clarence, please stand up and I will assist you with your investigations…for a while."

Once the boy had stopped whooping, he presented the pair with the other clues he had found close to the rock. There were two sets of footprints leading to the rock in a large and terrible tangle of movement, indicating to everyone concerned that a struggle had taken place between two men as the shoeprints were too large to belong to women. Clarence also showed them the remnants of a clay smoking pipe he claimed to have discovered some ten feet away from the rock that had been partially buried in the soil and required him to dig. He pointed to a scorched patch of grass less than a few inches wide on the opposite side of the path to the rock and then finished his exhibition by drawing attention to the bloodstain itself and estimated the crime to have been committed over three days ago. Ciel was then asked his opinion by the blond boy who was eagerly awaiting feedback on his efforts.

The older boy examined the footprints in greater detail, finding they had hardened in the earth until they had the texture and durability of cement. They both appeared to belong to very similar men: both sets were near identical. He considered. "When did it last rain here?" He asked without looking at the blond youth now peering precariously over his shoulder.

"It was pissing it down on Thursday afternoon. Since then, it's been lovely." The boy said displaying coarse language Ciel had rarely encountered in one so young and naïve. He composed himself with a brief clearing of the throat.

"Then it would make sense that the struggle depicted in these footprints occurred around that time, given that they had hardened to such a high degree. That would place the blood on the rock at four days ago to fall in line with the footprints. There's a distinct pattern to these shoeprints I'm not familiar with. Do you recognise it?" The older boy asked his companion who crouched down so close beside him that their elbows touched.

"They look like hobnail boots. Fishermen wear them for grip on the dock wood when it's wet." Clarence said running his fingers over the pattern close to wear Ciel's were also inspecting the marks. The older boy moved his hand back to the safety of his thigh, less his personal space get any more inadvertent invasions. "But I thought those kind of boots only worked on soft surfaces like mud or snow. Don't they slide on hard wood?"

"The boards at the docks and wharfs are double-layered with the soft wood on top and new wood on the bottom. People around here like to preserve the past, even if it's not a great idea."

"Does nobody else wear hobnail boots in the area? Some of the ground here is pretty treacherous."

"Sure they do, but these marks are from homemade hobnails, probably made from old fishing hooks. See the barbs? Only fishermen make them like that. Other people just use nails." Clarence said tracing the outline of the individual nails with a single finger.

"Do fishermen also tend to smoke clay pipes instead of wooden ones?" He asked the blond who smiled and nodded.

"Yep. They're a lot easier to replace if they're lost at sea. Wooden pipes are so expensive in the shops."

"I think by that logic we can ascertain that a struggle took place here four days ago between two men who were likely employed in the fishing trade judging by their boots and the pipe that's burial clearly points to its involvement in the same struggle on the same day, otherwise it would be lying on the surface of the soil instead halfway underneath. They probably engaged in an argument of some kind and then fought, one of them either deliberately or accidentally pushing the other onto this rock, 'braining them' as you put it." Ciel said getting to his feet. Clarence nodded in agreement whilst doing the same.

"That's pretty much what I thought happened too. But I couldn't find a trail of footprints leading either forward or back from this part of the coast that showed where these hard footprints came from in the first place. It's like they were made by angry ghosts or something."

"They were probably washed away by the rain since the path here looks like it is frequently used by the public. Unless you were paying attention, you might miss these footprints in the long grass entirely." Ciel postulated before searching around for his butler who had been mute for some time now. He found the demon examining the scorched grass on the opposite side of the path with a curious smile.

"Have you found something, Mr Butler?" Clarence asked as the two boys approached him. Sebastian regarded the blond youth with shining eyes.

"Perhaps. What do you believe caused this, Clarence?"

"Somebody lit a match and then threw it away without putting it out properly. It fits with the pipe I found. Two people were having a conversation here and one lit a pipe. Right?" The younger boy offered with a shrug.

"But if it were raining as hard as the baked footprints suggest, any flame would have been smothered instantly and, even if it were not, it would certainly not cause this sort of damage. Therefore it stands to reason this grass was scorched after the ground had dried."

"So what?" Ciel said with a roll of his eyes. This was not the holiday he had imagined. It was not a holiday anyone would imagine for that matter. How he allowed himself to be pulled into such situations without the Queen demanding him to do so was beginning to grow beyond his comprehension. Sebastian's ensuing explanation did not help.

"Given that I found this in the ash," The demon said producing the charred fragments of what once been a letter, "it is safe to assume whatever was written on this paper was of great importance to establishing motive or opportunity for the crime."

"How can you be sure it's related to the crime?" Ciel challenged. Sebastian held it out for his inspection. Blackened blood spattered the legible sections of the paper, obscuring most of the text in the process. The boy conceded the point.

"I see. I wish to speak to you in private. Clarence please wait here."

Once they were out of the blond boy's immediate earshot, Ciel turned to his still smiling butler and narrowed his eyes.

"Was all your talk of rest and relaxation just hot-air? Why are you bloody dragging us into this mystery with evidence like that?" He snapped under his breath. This only seemed to encourage the demon whose smile widened.

"You were not exactly standing idle either, Sir. In response to your first question, I must ask my own. Has this incident stressed or excited you?"

"This is not my idea of fun!" Ciel insisted. Sebastian was unfazed.

"I did not ask that, Young Master. It has been my experience that something labelled as fun is rarely actually pleasurable, especially where you are concerned. I think this curious set of circumstances can only aid your recovery from stress. You are never more content than when applying the sharper edge of your mind to problems that give others fits. The stressful elements of our investigations always stem from the jeopardy Her Majesty imposes upon you, not the mysteries or murders themselves. Here there is no threat of exile or dishonour hanging over your head, just the promise of a puzzle that few can solve." The boy hated that he could see sense in the demon's argument. He hated even more that he could agree with it being true, despite his wish it were otherwise. He sighed.

"And your promise of peace and the therapy of the ocean?"

"In all honesty, I did not envision a week of lying on the beach and swimming in the ocean would be therapeutic for you, I merely hoped so. I take it you do not like Clarence's manner?"

"On the contrary, I find his ability to reason very refreshing in someone from the rural community. I just worry this mystery of his may lead to more dangerous places he cannot handle."

"Then perhaps he requires a more seasoned campaigner to help him navigate such places. He does seem to really like you, Sir." Sebastian said, strongly hinting at a partnership between the two of them. Ciel looked over at Clarence, who was sat on the bloody rock trying to decipher the letter remnants with acute concentration. He considered carefully before speaking.

"How can he describe me as a 'boy detective'? What publications has he been reading to label me with such nonsense? I'm an earl of the realm, not a comic strip character."

"He's only a boy, Master. He likely aspires for such a lofty title himself and is striving to emulate you to achieve it. I must say for one so obviously of the countryside, it is remarkable he knows of you and your exploits in London at all. He must read voraciously. It is admirable for someone of his age." Sebastian commented with such praise that Ciel immediately recognised it as a promotion of the youth as a playmate of sorts. He turned back to the butler and frowned.

"Why do I get the distinct impression you wish me to befriend him?"

"Because I think it would be good to socialise with people your own age group instead of entertain stuffy old men or abide smug adults. In my opinion you do too much of both." Sebastian said. Ciel smirked.

"And you don't find him too uncouth for a nobleman of my station to associate with?"

"I like him. He likes you. The only remaining question to ask then is, do you like him?" The demon inquired even though it was obvious from his leading tone that he was already confident of the answer being 'yes'. Ciel did not want to admit his butler was right again. He turned to glance at their new acquaintance again before shrugging his shoulders.

"I suppose I must do. I haven't found myself wanting him to go away yet."

"So then, go over and help him solve his mystery. If you don't and simply walk on to the village without him, you will be unable to help trying to deduce it anyway. It is in your nature to find out the heart of things others cannot. Help cultivate such a desire in Clarence. It will put him in good stead for the future." Ciel decided if the demon were right just one more time, he would push him over the cliff edge. His perception was infuriating at times, maddening at others.

"Fine. I'll help him." The boy said before walking back to wear the blond youth was sat, still searching for meaning where perhaps there was none. Ciel cleared his throat. "Clarence, just how old are you anyway?"

"Nearly twelve. I'll be twelve in fifteen days." The younger boy answered without taking his eyes from the letter. He rotated the document ninety degrees to the left. "And you're thirteen like I thought, right?"

"That's correct. Since we are so close in age and shall we working together for the foreseeable future, I think it's only fair you get to call me Ciel." The older boy said sitting down alongside him. His companion nodded.

"That's good. I'm not too good with addressing lords and ladies anyway. I probably would've forgotten after a while what I was supposed to call you." Clarence said turning the letter yet again and adopting a more intense frown to scrutinise it. "Ciel means 'sky' in French. Do you speak French?"

"Yes, fluently. And you?" The older boy asked to earn a sheepish smile from his companion.

"I barely speak English. My main language is…" Clarence began before trailing off. "Kernewek." The boy said after a few moments silence. Ciel could not assign the word any meaning, beyond the fact it had altered the landscape of the boy's entire face from one of glowering concentration to one of stunned surprise. "It's written in Cornish. The letter is written in Cornish." The blond boy murmured.

"What does that mean?"

"It means only a few people on this side of the coast can understand what it says and even fewer can write it."

"Can you?"

"Yep. I think I know where this came from."

"Yes?"

"Bill Thomas. He's a fisherman from Penzance who fancies himself a scholar of the Cornish language. He's always using fancy words I don't even understand like this one 'dynyta'. He told me last week it means respect or dignity. Here's another one he likes 'denseth' which means humanity." Clarence said with a big smile now he understood what he was looking at. Ciel pointed to a word near the bottom of the document.

"What does this word mean?"

"Tresor? It means treasure." The two boys looked at each other with a visible excitement growing in both their faces as they considered the implications of that word in the context of what was already known. It only took a moment longer for one to pose the question.

"Motive?" Ciel asked his companion who smiled and nodded.

"Motive. Shall we go visit him?"

"Let's."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Part four. Ciel and Clarence visit Bill Thomas and get a greater understanding of the challenges facing them. Enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian: His Butler, At Leisure 4**

Bill Thomas' cottage was located on the fringes of Bartleby-on-Sea and situated atop of a high hill that allowed it to simultaneously look down over the village as well the docks that stretched out to the west. It seemed to offer a good vantage point to monitor what was happening everywhere of interest if one were inclined to such activities, Ciel thought, and from what Clarence had told him of the fisherman it seemed Mr Thomas held such inclinations. The blond boy was quick to say that although the man was sometimes pompous and smug owing to his knowledge of Cornish language and history, he was a nice and kind man at heart. Clarence explained how Mr Thomas had carried him when he had broken his leg jumping from a cliff and visited him every day he was recovering to chat and lift his understandably low spirits.

When Ciel had asked whether the fisherman was prone to hunting for buried treasure either on land or at sea, his companion stated Mr Thomas often talked of gold and silver when he was drunk in the pub, regaling all who would listen with stories of finding such riches on a small island south of the village. He would claim to have reburied it somewhere on the coast, but when challenged why he was still a simple fisherman and not a king, claimed to have lost the map leading to the burial site. Clarence said he had heard it dozens of times over the last three years and had been fascinated by the tale the first five or six times, but dismissive once he knew all the details and indeed the words themselves by rote. He assumed Mr Thomas was reciting lines from some forgotten play or book and in fact had no knowledge of treasure located here or anywhere else in the known world. Whenever he was sober again, the man would deny having ever said such nonsense and return to being a Cornish scholar in his spare time.

"He's home." Clarence said as they drew up to the front door.

"How can you tell?" Ciel asked searching for some subtle clue to explain his companion's confidence. The blond youth pointed to the wet hobnail boots tucked behind the front step.

"It looks like he went out to sea last night. He probably only just got back to port since they're still wet." Clarence said before rapping on the peeling blue paint of the door. There was a long silence. Ciel looked uncertain. His companion nodded. "He's here. Just wait another few seconds."

" _Piw? Pandra estra a kil_?" A gruff voice barked from behind the door. The older boy was intrigued at having not heard anybody move inside. Clarence smiled.

" _Theram a gwary! Idge Bill en chy_?" The blond responded gaily. Ciel could just about tell the younger boy was being flippant before asking a question about Bill Thomas. There was another pause.

" _Mava a cuska_." The voice said to prompt a brief giggle from Clarence who covered his mouth.

"He says he's sleeping." The blond explained before pounding on the door with both fists. " _Pana termen idgeva a toaz_?" He shouted through the door. He repeated his question and his incessant banging for almost two minutes before the door was unceremoniously wrenched open and a red-eyed, heavily bearded man confronted them with rage slowly building beneath his craggy features.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, boy? Do you have any idea what time it is?" The man bellowed in a coarse and guttural voice. Ciel was amazed to see such rudeness did not affect his partner in the slightest, despite Bill Thomas being a very large and intimidating specimen with the hairiest knuckles the older boy had ever seen on a human being.

"It's almost eleven in the morning, Mr Thomas." Clarence informed him with a cheery smile. The man's rage turned to bemusement.

"Is it? I must confess to completely losing track of the hours recently. Please, excuse my language, lad. I had not expected visitors of any distinction for some time." Mr Thomas said in a voice that suddenly sounded like an exaggerated imitation of the gentry. The man bowed low. "I'm honoured to be in your presence, young sirs." Ciel had little idea what to make of this man, beyond the fast-growing idea he was a drunk scholar without ties to Ireland. It was a novelty. The fisherman's eyes fell on the older boy as he stood back up. "Your visage is familiar to me, young man. Perchance I have seen it before?"

"Do you always talk in such a ludicrous manner or are you making fun of me?" Ciel asked. The man's eyebrows shot up, seemingly of their own accord.

"By all the heavens. You must be Ciel Phantomhive, an earl of the realm. You slew Lord Winslow, if the journalists are to be believed, barely a fortnight gone. Their words were not kind in describing you." Thomas replied. The older boy was beginning to wonder whether everybody in this village and surrounding area knew about him. They seemed very well informed for children and fishermen.

"It was actually more than three weeks ago. However, none of that is of any importance right now. Clarence and I have a more pressing matter that you may help us with. Is this your handwriting?" Ciel said holding out the remains of the letter for him to inspect. The man took hold of it and frowned.

"This is my script, but I do not recall penning such a work. What fate befell it?"

"It was burned. The black stuff is dried blood, Mr Thomas." Clarence told him whilst pointing to the black stains with a singer finger. The fisherman's face was unmoved by this revelation, remaining deep in concentration.

"I see. Where did you acquire this sorry excuse for a document?"

"Up near the cliffs to the east. Do you have any idea how it got there? Could you have written it for someone? We believe it was written four days ago on Thursday." Ciel said to try and prompt him. The man appeared to think hard on the matter. Silence reigned for several minutes.

"I was in The Linnet and Lark on Thursday. I can admit to having quite the tipple to drink and not quite being altogether on the events that transpired…"

"Will you please cease this archaic speech of yours? This is not a Shakespearean play and you are not on a stage. I've been a member of the gentry all my life and never encountered a single lord or lady addressing another with such ridiculous airs. Talk normally or I will have no choice but to leave you to your wallowing." Ciel interrupted having endured all he could stand of this self-indulgent rhetoric. The fisherman looked both embarrassed and ashamed by this reprimand. Before he could give a response, Clarence took the older boy by the arm and pulled him to some ground just out of earshot.

"You can't talk to witnesses like that, Ciel. Not only is it completely rude and unnecessary, but it makes them feel like idiots. Then they shut their mouths and don't talk again." The blond boy told him curtly. Ciel, still reeling slightly from having an eleven-year-old practically drag him to one side, clenched his jaw. He could tell his companion was not finished yet. "I know you're an earl and all that, but it doesn't mean you can treat people like dirt. I thought you were supposed to be smart." The older boy nodded in agreement. Clarence was right: this was not London and he was not dealing with his own kind, people who shrugged off such insults with ease.

"I suppose I should apologise to him. He doesn't seem like he's even capable of hurting another man, much less killing one." Ciel said with a sigh. His companion nodded.

"He's a good person at heart. He just likes to feel sophisticated. I think he's putting on more 'airs' as you call them than usual because he's talking to you. He wants to impress you I think." Clarence said with a smile that said he had already forgiven Ciel's earlier rudeness. The older boy was grateful.

"I think you're right. Let's try again."

Ciel could not recall having ever apologised to a commoner for speaking his mind. It was simply not done. But he did apologise to Bill Thomas and found the man was just as forgiving as Clarence in putting the issue behind them. The fisherman told them he remembered speaking to an Englishman about the island and the treasure in the pub on Thursday afternoon. He could not be sure of the Englishman's name, thinking it perhaps began with a 'B', but gave a good description of him. Apparently the man they sought was around thirty years of age with thick brown hair, a trimmed moustache and a military air. He spoke in an Upper-Class accent, but his clothes said he was not a member of nobility, being much too plain and worn for that. The Englishman had bought him numerous drinks, the fisherman recalled, but ordered none for himself. He had wanted to be sober, Thomas remembered him saying quite clearly. When asked if he could have written out the story on paper for the Englishman to study, the man admitted it was possible. But, he said, writing it in Cornish for a man who clearly lacked an aptitude for languages made no sense.

"Bill said most of the words left on the letter were about the legend of the treasure," Clarence said as the pair sat on a low wall after concluding their interview with the fisherman, "but not anything about where someone might find it." The blond boy said handing Ciel the translated fragments of text from the letter on a piece of notepaper. The older boy nodded whilst scanning the recovered passages:

 _Respect the sea gods…_

 _Humanity holds the key…_

 _Riches beyond the shoal…_

 _Treasure lies in wait for…_

 _Do not tempt fate for…_

 _Fool's errand…_

 _Marked by a…_

 _Kings and queens you will be!_

"I'm sorry I grabbed you like that." Clarence said to break his companion's train of thought. Ciel turned to him and frowned. The blond boy looked guilty about the whole affair. "You looked so disgusted when I was blowing at you I was afraid you'd smack me. I guess people like me aren't allowed to touch lords and ladies…or earls like that." The older boy shook his head.

"No, you were right to reprimand me like that. Other noblemen wouldn't have dared do that for fear of their reputations being sullied and I often forget how arrogant I am sometimes. If you hadn't got me to apologise, we might not have any leads to follow."Ciel assured the blond youth whilst gifting him a smile. Clarence smiled back.

"I'm glad I could help. So, should we start by going to the pub Bill mentioned and asking around?"

"Definitely. However, clarify something for me…" Ciel said sharing the paper between their laps, "You said that you'd heard his story enough times to know it by rote. Are all these fragments part of his story or do some of them offer clues to a possible location for this treasure?" Clarence read through the lines again, a finger following him as he moved from word to word. Ciel noticed the finger being used was marked by two scars that ran horizontally across the entire length in parallel to one another. Their origin looked painful.

"No, although, usually he uses bay instead of 'shoal' and Fool's message instead of 'errand' when he tells it down the pub."

"Can you fill in the blanks with what you know? Maybe then we can make more sense out of it."

"I can try. I can't promise I'll get all of it right. I'm not known for my memory." Clarence said with a sheepish smile before it was sudden replaced by a frown. "Are you hungry?" The blond asked pressing a hand against his stomach.

"Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I could use something to eat. We could share what my butler prepared for my lunch if you like." Ciel said placing the small box, which he had been carrying around since the demon's departure almost an hour ago, between them.

"Your butler prepared this?" Clarence said after a few testing bites of the exotic-looking salad Sebastian had said originated from Korea. "It's really good. I mean, I've never even heard of half these ingredients but it's really tasty." The boy added before scoffing down more and nodding in approval. "Does he always serve you food like this?"

"Usually. He knows I like French cuisine best, but insists I try new things from time to time." Ciel responded taking another measured forkful into his mouth. His companion frowned.

"Can't you order him not to?"

"I can, but that would make me very narrow-minded. I like to think I have broad horizons."

"That's a good answer. Who taught you to speak so well?" Clarence said digging into the bottom of the box with his fork for leftovers. Ciel wondered if the blond had ever sampled anything foreign in his whole life. His green eyes seemed mesmerised by the purple of the Bok-Choy and red of the chilli dressing as if he had never seen such colours before. The older boy shrugged.

"Tutors. I had some elocution coaches when I was younger, but I don't anymore."

"Elocution?"

"Pronunciation."

"I see. They're…synonyms, right?" Clarence said with some careful pronunciation of his own. Ciel could admit to being impressed a country boy, who did not even speak English as his native tongue, knew what a synonym was. He smiled at his younger companion.

"Close enough."

"I just thought it might have been Sebastian again. You and he sound alike. Does he instruct you at all?" Clarence said whilst vainly searching for more food in a now empty box. Ciel had never heard this said before. He supposed he and the demon did share the same vocabulary, the same manner of speaking. Since Sebastian was largely responsible for returning him to the conduct and bearing of a gentleman after his incarceration, the older boy supposed the demon had instructed him. Perhaps he had even…raised him, in some vague sense of course, the last few years. Regardless, Ciel elected to be reserved in his answer.

"Yes, a little."

"Why did you send him away?"

"We don't need a chaperone. We can handle this mystery just fine by ourselves." Ciel stated closing the lid on the box. He had stopped living a life wrapped in cotton wool a long time ago. Sebastian would come if needed. Clarence nodded in agreement before handing him a folded piece of paper. The older boy frowned.

"What's this?"

"It's the story Bill keeps telling. I wrote it out like you wanted." Clarence explained as the paper exchanged hands. Ciel could not remember his companion writing anything at all during their conversation or lunch.

"When?"

"While we were eating." The blond said as the older boy briefly scanned over the document. Clarence had very neat handwriting and a remarkable memory, given the writing stretched to almost twenty lines. Although Ciel counted four spelling mistakes amongst the script, it was nevertheless an impressive effort. Something did puzzle him though and he voiced it without feeling stupid.

"I thought you were left-handed." The older boy remarked having reached his conclusion by watching Clarence use his left hand for knocking, holding the letter and holding his fork. The Cornish youth smiled and shook his head.

"Nope. I'm just as good with either. Sometimes I swap them for fun." Ciel was amazed not to hear a trace of arrogance in his companion's voice despite revealing mastery of such a difficult talent as ambidexterity. The older boy inclined his head.

"Impressive. May I correct the spelling errors for you?"

"Like I'm going to say 'no'. What do you think of it?"

Ciel read through the document again:

 _Respect the sea gods, they do not forgive easily._

 _Take heart when striking for riches. They are closer than you think._

 _Humanity holds the key when you go to sea. Do not lose it to greed._

 _When going on the waves, remember to row with the arms not the head._

 _You must drift farther than the shoal, be courageous when crossing boundaries._

 _Riches beyond the shoal are gained only by determination and bravery, never dark intent._

 _Treasure lies in wait for the able seaman, the skilled navigator and the true patron of the ocean._

 _Do not tempt fate for fortune. Do not favour opportunity over destiny. If a thing is meant, it will come to pass._

 _A Fool's errand is only worsened by ill company. A strong friendship can aid a mariner, but only if it is out of love, not profit._

 _Once ashore the fair isle, walk with purpose to the eastern wood. Do not stop to consider another path._

 _Within the wood is a stone that does not belong in nature. It holds the key to your desires._

 _Take the fork this stone overshadows, bearing left not right and forward not back._

 _Danger is rife and gallantry is tested when travelling this path. Take heart. Riches are not far._

 _Marked by a dead man's skull, you will face a choice that cannot be made for you._

 _Make it right or make it wrong, the spirits will guide you to a destination. What awaits is what you have earned._

 _Should you find yourself amongst the ruins of the old world, the treasure still waits for your arrival._

 _Should you find yourself wandering cliffs, a treasure of sorts awaits your thirst for wealth._

 _If a thing is meant, it will come to pass._

 _The ruins hold the key to wealth and riches untold. Find the centre and dig where the eye meets the anchor…_

 _Kings and queens you will be!_

"I think you should be known for your memory if this is an example of it. The wording is very specific. It kind of reads like a checklist. Every line follows the other step-by-step. But there's no coordinates or idea of where the island is, except that it's beyond the shoals." Ciel mused before considering something. "You said he usually says 'bay' instead of 'shoal' when he tells it at the pub. Do you know what bay he may be referring to?" Clarence adopted an expression of intense concentration.

"There's actually three. They're all named after birds. None of them are within three miles of the village."

"And the shoal?"

"You can see it from here." The blond said pointing directly in front of them and out to the ocean. Ciel stood up and walked forward to get a better view of the enormous sandbar four or five miles off the coastline wedged between a pair of rocky outcrops. Beyond it, he could see three or four small islands. All of them had woods.

"What is it, Ciel?" Clarence asked drawing up alongside him, "What are you thinking?"

"Are there islands by the three bays?"

"Yeah, there's tons of them."

"And people have gone looking for this treasure before?"

"Yep. You're thinking maybe they've been looking in the wrong place, huh?" Clarence said, further demonstrating his perception. Ciel nodded whilst continuing to regard the islands.

"If Mr Thomas always uses bay when regaling patrons down the pub, why would anyone think to search elsewhere? Imagine going for a treasure hunt but starting in the wrong place. What if the treasure is just over the shoal?"

"If that's true…why hasn't he already gotten the treasure? Why give people false hope?"

"You said he lost the map to where the treasure was buried. But just reading it makes it seem like the treasure's location is a puzzle. In theory, one just has to solve it to find the treasure."

"Do you think the murderer figured that out before they burnt the letter? They would've seen it from the cliff where we found the blood."

"Perhaps. It would explain why they felt the need to burn the letter in the first place. Let's get to the pub. Maybe then we can really begin to piece this together."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Ciel and Clarence go to the pub for more information on the mysterious Englishman Bill Thomas described speaking with. Enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian – His Butler, At Leisure 5**

Ciel did not expect much when they entered the Linnet and Lark public house shortly after three in the afternoon. The older boy already found the idea of naming an establishment in a coastal town after birds that lived inland in dry conditions ironic without finding more contradictions. The lack of a single anchor, fishnet or hook on the pub's interior when it catered almost exclusively to fishermen and sailors was another incongruity Ciel could not help noticing immediately. When he mentioned these things to Clarence, the Cornish boy only laughed good-naturedly.

"Well maybe we don't want to be reminded of where we are all the time. Maybe we like to pretend we're somewhere far away from the sea. No-one wants to be pigeon-holed as a sea-faring buccaneer for the sake of tourists. Not here anyway." The blond suggested. Ciel supposed it was plausible enough. He inclined his head.

"Fair enough. You said you worked here?"

"Yeah. I'm a barboy most days. Today's my day off." The older boy found it unsettling that they employed an eleven-year-old to serve drinks and wait tables when there were dozens of grown men standing idle in the village. Ciel gestured to the scars on his companion's fingers.

"Did you get those from working here?" He asked. Clarence moved the hand behind his back before averting his gaze and nodding.

"I did. The regulars can get a little angry if you spill their drinks." The younger boy explained before shrugging his shoulders and levelling his eyes back on Ciel. He smiled. "But I haven't dropped a tray in over a year, so it must've worked. Let's go talk to Harry. He's behind the bar."

The blond boy led him to the wide mahogany bar and the stern-faced gentleman who stood with arms folded behind it. Harry was a large, bald man with a heavy black moustache and air of grim intent that labelled him as both tough and dangerous. The few patrons taking a drink this early avoided his gaze. However, upon seeing Clarence, the barman's stone countenance gave way to a warm and inviting smile. Ciel was not surprised the Cornish boy had this effect on the people in his life. He seemed remarkably difficult to hate.

"Hello, my little _Kernewek paja_! How are you today?" Harry said in a voice that boomed like a dinner gong. Clarence flashed him a winning smile before sitting at the bar.

"I'm fine, thank you. This is my new friend, Ciel. Ciel, this is Harry. He owns this pub."

The man inclined his head and shook the older boy's hand briefly, but firmly. "You must be the boy staying up at the cottage on the cliffs. I saw you ride into town last night. Sparked out like a light in your coachman's lap, weren't you? Long trip?" Ciel found him a little coarse, but certainly not vulgar. So far, everyone seemed affable enough. He had thought his nobility would alienate him somewhat. It was clear he had been very much mistaken. The older boy nodded.

"Almost twelve hours. I have already found it to be most worthwhile."

"Yes, the lad here does give us a good name where strangers are concerned. Clare-Clare, this wouldn't be that earl you're always flapping your gob about, would it? The one you keep chewing everyone's ear off about on a slow night?" Harry asked. Clarence flushed darkly.

"Well, I don't talk about him all the time."

"That's not what your mum says when she drops off the bread in the morning. She says you turn her stomach with all your talk of murder and earls of the realm. Just today she was complaining about you, said you told her how people brain themselves on rocks all the time." The barman informed them with an amused smile and shake of his head. Ciel frowned when seeing his companion was tongue-tied. He had not seen the blond youth so flustered before. He patted him on the back to show he paid it no heed. Clarence remained looking at his feet. The older boy took his hand back and turned his full gaze on Harry.

"Oddly enough, that's the reason we've come to speak with you this afternoon, Mr…?"

"Ah, a man of manners as well as airs! Brayton, lad, Harry Brayton. So, you two suspect someone's gone and dashed their head on a rock recently, do you?" The man said setting his elbows on the bar top and leaning forward. Ciel could smell nothing but beer coming from him, stale and pungent. He nodded.

"That's correct. We were wondering to that end if any of your regular patrons or villagers were missing. We were also curious as to if you remember Mr. Bill Thomas conversing with an English gentleman one night last week. Apparently, he was talking of his fabled treasure again." Harry's smiled vanished at the mention of treasure. The man sighed lethargically.

"Bloody Bill and his sodding stories of gold and silver. He does a rendition every time he goes past three pints and repeats it when he finds himself on the wrong side of six. To answer your questions my little lord, none of my regular barflies and blowhards are missing. Neither are any of the villagers. I do recall Bill quacking off to a passing traveller on his way to Penzance. He did appear to be an English gentleman, but I reckon he was just a con-man looking for an easy score. His clothes were filthier than mine, and this shirt's covered in dried beer and sandwich crumbs, so it was stiff competition. He bought the old boot eight or nine pints of our cheapest ale and kept asking him to repeat the story of the treasure."

"Did he get him to write it down at all?" Ciel said, choosing to ignore the fact a commoner had addressed him in so derogatory a fashion. The mystery was more important, but he would not settle for such familiarity again, not from a pub landlord. Harry nodded.

"Yes, he had to once Bill sank his seventh. The man sounds like he's got fudge in his mouth after a few too many. His hands are always steady though. He can still beat the crowds at darts even if he's half-cut enough that you could split him in two."

"Was this Englishman with anybody else that you could see?"

"Nah, bloke seemed a bit of a loner until Bill started spouting his drivel. Then he was real friendly with him, played a few games of darts too. Wasn't even close."

"Have you seen him since that night?"

"Nope, don't expect to see him again. Man was a traveller: they drift in and out of here all the time either going to Penzance or St Ives on a jolly."

"Do you know what time he left the bar and whether or not he had belongings with him?"

"Listen, I've been more than kind in answering your questions. If you're going to ask me again, either buy something or give me some coin for my information. I have a business to run." Harry said bluntly. Ciel recognised his shift in tone all too well. Pleasantries were over: business and leverage were now all that mattered. The older boy gestured to his companion.

"And would you charge Clarence too?"

"Clare-Clare isn't one of the richest and most powerful noblemen in England. According to him, you are though. Be thankful I'm not a greedy man. All I want is a couple of quid for the privilege of telling you what I know." The man said with a shrug. Ciel was not in the mood to part with money in a mystery he had no personal stake in. If the Queen was not breathing down his neck, he saw no reason to sacrifice any money for information, no matter how intriguing. He did have another thought though. He smiled at the barman.

"Well I'm not in the habit of carrying my weight in gold when I holiday. However, you seem like a man who enjoys his darts. I propose we play a game, best of three. If you win, I go back to my cottage and give you ten pounds. If I win, you tell me everything I want to know. What do you say?"

"Seeing as I regularly beat Bill and he regularly beats everyone else, I'd be happy to take on a challenge like that. I've never beaten a nobleman before. I'll enjoy that ten quid." Harry said with a smug grin. Ciel's smile grew wider. Adults were all the same, overconfident to the point of farce. This was going to be fun. The older boy gestured where the dartboard hung on the far wall.

"Shall we?"

Ciel could admit to Harry's skill being one of the finest he had encountered. The man's average scoring was above one hundred and he rarely missed a fair checkout when it was required. Ciel however scored even heavier, around one-hundred and twenty, and never missed the opportunity to checkout, even with the most difficult clearances. In the end, the boy took the contest in straight sets, clipping the barman three legs to two in both of them whilst scoring five maximum scores of one-hundred-and-eighty. In truth, Ciel would have preferred billiards to darts since he enjoyed cue sports so much. He could settle for a solid victory though, especially when out of practice. Still, he was not surprised when Harry refused to divulge the information he had promised. The man was a sore loser at best, a dangerous hindrance to their investigation at worst. Ciel knew he could call Sebastian to deal with him. It would definitely yield the answers he wanted, but would not really endear him to the village as a whole. He expected if Harry painted him as a snob with a hired thug to do his bidding to his patrons, word would spread and the mystery would be shut down permanently.

"Can you at least tell us his name, Mr. Brayton? Please?" Clarence said seeming to inherently understand Ciel's approach as being restrained. The blond appeared to have gotten over his earlier embarrassment and was once again trying to push things forward. Harry glared at him for almost a minute, but inevitably softened.

"The bloke said his name was Brauttigan. He didn't give us his first name for obvious reasons. It's probably not his real name in any case. Now, sod off the pair of you. Clare-Clare, I expect you in tomorrow at seven sharp."

The pair left the pub and walked back out of the village towards the cottage. It was almost five now and, factoring in the walk back, Ciel judged he would arrive for dinner before six. He turned to Clarence who was despondently looking back at the village just behind them.

"You're going home for the day now?" The Cornish boy asked without looking at him. He sounded crestfallen by the possibility. Ciel nodded.

"That's right. I'd invite you back for dinner, but I imagine your mother will be worrying about you now."

"Oh, without a doubt she will be. She always does."

"I'll return tomorrow morning. We can meet by the pub if you want. Sometimes it's better to sleep on information you have before taking any action."

"I know. Do you think Brauttigan is our victim?"

"I think so, but he can't have been alone. Someone must've been watching him in the pub before following him to the cliff."

"You don't think he could be the murderer?"

"At this stage, anything is possible. Good detectives do not rule anything out without proof."

"I really don't want you to go."

"I told you I'd be back tomorrow. I'm not leaving for good."

"I know. It's just…" Clarence said before sighing and turning to face the older boy, "You're my first friend in years. Ever since we moved here, I've been alone." Ciel found it incredulous to swallow the blond youth had no other friends with such a gregarious nature.

"Aren't there other children here for you to play with?" He asked. Clarence adopted a sad smile and nodded.

"Oh, plenty of kids. There's a school on the other side of the village too, near the church. But none of them like me because I'm Cornish. It sounds silly to even say it since we're in Cornwall, but none of them like me because I speak Cornish. They think I'm a foreigner. They…bullied me out of the school. My mum doesn't let me go anymore. I have to learn everything out of books by myself. She can't really read." The younger boy revealed with enough embarrassment that Ciel believed he had just been privy to Clarence's biggest humiliation. It prompted him to reveal some truth about his own social circle.

"I'm sorry to hear that. If it helps, you're the first child I've played with for many years as well. I've been alone for a while too. It can only get better…Clare-Clare." The older boy said with a smirk. Clarence grinned at the use of Harry's pet name for him.

"Please don't call me that. He makes me sound like a fairground ride. Thank you for not judging me. It means a lot. I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Ciel. I have to work until three, but you can meet me there after then to go and solve more of the mystery."

"Perhaps I might come by earlier and assist you in your duties." Ciel suggested only to be met with his companion giggling behind cupped hands. The older boy knew by now the blond youth never laughed at people. He took no offence to the response and was pleased with himself for doing so. Clarence shook his head at the idea.

"I don't think an earl should be a barboy. Besides, I don't want to ruin your holiday too much." The younger boy said. Ciel rolled his eyes at any suggestion meeting Clarence had damaged his relaxation.

"Since I am often guilty of single-handedly scuppering my own holidays, I cannot expect you to take the blame. I think I deplore relaxing holidays in any case. However, if you will not permit me to help you in the pub, perhaps I could have my butler prepare you an exotic lunch to eat during your break. We could eat together outside if you like."

Clarence smile grew wider. "I'd like that. My lunch break is at noon. It lasts all of half-an-hour."

"I shall be there. What would you like Sebastian to fix for lunch?"

"I'd like to try something French. I hear they eat snails over there."

"They do. However, I do not believe the snails in this place are suitable for eating. Would you be happy with pastries? Almond croissants are simply delicious when taken with jam and a good cup of tea."

"Sounds better than cheese sandwiches again. That'd be great. How do you say 'goodbye' in French?"

" _Au revoir_. It means 'until we see each other again'."

"It's pretty. I think maybe all French sounds pretty. Au revoir, Ciel." Clarence said with a brief wave. The older boy appreciated his effort. He offered a wave back.

" _Au revoir, Clarence_." Ciel said, making sure he pronounced the Cornish boy's name with a French accent. His companion nodded in approval.

"Very pretty. See you tomorrow."

Ciel reached the cliff where they discovered the bloodstain and found Sebastian standing at the edge. The demon was looking out on the ocean, seemingly towards the shoal. The boy frowned at his presence so far from the cottage. He was not tending the grounds or preparing dinner. He was indulging his own whims, or so it first appeared. Ciel watched his butler for a time. The demon did not move a muscle.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" The boy said advancing on Sebastian. The demon turned from the sea, looking as serene as ever. Ciel noted he held an empty cup and saucer in his hands.

"Young Master. Dinner is prepared and awaiting your arrival. The cottage has been cleaned thoroughly and all other duties tasked to myself and the staff have been completed. To that end, I am relaxing. How was your afternoon with Clarence and his mystery? Did you make headway?"

"Why are you this far from the cottage? Did I give you leave to venture this far without permission? Have you been drinking my tea?" The boy said as he drew level with his wayward butler. Sebastian inclined his head.

"I wished to enjoy such a view as you would, Master. Since you never take in such a vista without some form of beverage, it seemed appropriate I do the same."

"But you have no concept of taste. You might as well be drinking water."

"I still have a nose, Sir. I may at least enjoy the scent even if the flavour eludes me. I must say you do not seem too angry about the matter." Sebastian responded. Ciel was not angry with his butler. There was no need to be. He had after all stated if the demon completed all his duties, he too could partake in the leisure experience. The boy had just assumed Sebastian would remain in the cottage, ready to serve him as soon as he walked through the door.

"Be thankful I am in a generous mood." The boy said looking out on the sandbar for himself. From this position he could identify one island had two separate woods, one on either side of its mass. "I'm meeting Clarence for lunch tomorrow. You will prepare some almond croissants accordingly. Understand?"

"Yes, My Lord. I take it you are still favouring his company this week?"

"You know he reprimanded me for my rudeness? A barboy scolded me for being unpleasant to an old drunk." Ciel informed him with a smile.

"And you find this to be a positive trait?"

"I think we can both agree there are very few people in this world capable of speaking to me like that and not incurring my wrath. Clarence may consider himself an addition to that list." Ciel said turning his gaze to meet that of the demon.

"I see. Are you ready for dinner, Young Master?"

"No. Take this and look at that." The boy said handing him the document Clarence had written before gesturing to the shoal. Sebastian stood in silence for less than forty seconds before voicing his opinion.

"This is what you believe was written on the burnt letter?"

"Yes. So? Does that shoal out there tally with what is written in those verses?"

"It certainly seems plausible. Would you like me to investigate the island for you? I could go tonight once you are settled for bed."

"And deny me the pleasure of looking for the treasure myself? No, Clarence and I will investigate the possibility in due course. I merely wished for your outside opinion on the matter." Ciel said looking back at the island he had singled out for exploration. Sebastian returned the paper whilst juggling the cup and saucer in his other hand.

"May I ask why?"

"Because you are a creature without the need for pretences unlike the adults I have encountered today. You know I beat the pub landlord at darts? He had promised me information if I did and then rescinded his offer of help. How juvenile."

"You are scary to others, Sir, as we said yesterday. Adults fear your capabilities and rightly so."

"They love Clarence. He is proving to be a very useful partner in this mystery."

"I am sure he is. Shall we return to the cottage?"

"Whatever." Ciel said turning from the cliff and beginning to trek along the path towards the cottage. Sebastian shadowed him closely. The boy considered. "Don't drink my tea again."

"Yes, My Lord."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Beginning to move the mystery along now, aiming for another four or six chapters to finish the job. I hope it has been enjoyable so far. The big development now: the discovery of the missing body. Enjoy but please remember to read and review if you approve of the story's direction and pacing.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, At Leisure 6**

"I need a body."

"Young Master?"

"A body, Sebastian. We still haven't found a body yet. Even if it had been thrown over the cliff and washed out to sea, there would be some physical evidence left on the rocks."

"Perhaps it has also been washed out to sea."

"No, I don't think so. The murder was definitely manslaughter – nobody uses a rock as an intentional murder weapon – and it might have even been a struggle between friends."

"In which case, you believe perhaps the murderer gave the body a proper burial out of respect?"

"It's as reasonable as any other theory at the moment. We need evidence."

"I am confident you and Clarence will unearth some in due course. Please tilt your head back, Master." Ciel complied with his butler's request and tilted his head back as he reclined in the bathtub. Sebastian washed the soap out of his hair and combed through it with fingers to ensure none of the suds had escaped. The boy considered.

"What are the others doing?"

"Not much of anything in truth, Young Master. The property is so small and the daily chores so light that it does not require anyone but myself to fulfil all duties. As such, after they have attended to the horses and carriage in the morning, I intend to leave them to their own devices." The demon said easing the boy to a sitting position.

"Are they having a good time?"

"Most definitely. They are full of praise for you and your generosity."

"Yes, I'm sure they are." Ciel said standing up and dressing out of the tub. "I trust you will keep an eye on them? I don't want them causing the locals any trouble. They can be…destructive when given too long a leash." The boy added as the butler draped a towel around his shoulders. Sebastian smiled.

"I will keep them out of trouble, My Lord." The demon said as he placed another towel over his master's head and began to dry his hair. Ciel recalled something Clarence had said to him earlier in the day.

"Do you think we sound alike?"

"Young Master?"

"Clarence said he thought we sounded alike." The boy said as Sebastian finished towelling his hair and commenced drying his body.

"Perhaps he is generalising us since we come from what is essentially the city and he is of the countryside, Sir. The respective dialects are quite different on the ear."

"Why do you never answer my questions with a direct answer? You're always skirting around the issue." Ciel said sharply. The demon, already down on one knee to dry the boy's shins, looked up from his task with his smile still in place.

"Apologies, Master. In answer to your initial question, I can admit to seeing some similarity in our speaking, but it is to be expected. After all, I spent almost two years tutoring you on languages when you would not permit me to hire you instructors. In the past year, I would argue you have begun to develop your own unique voice."

"See? It wasn't that difficult to give a straight answer, was it?" Ciel said as Sebastian raised back up to his full height. The demon indicated for him to turn around. The boy, realising his butler was not going to answer his patronising question, obliged him and turned his back. A moment later his arms were guided into the sleeves of his dressing gown which he fastened himself.

"I will investigate the rocks below the cliffs for you, Master. It will at least ensure you are not mistaken in your current theory. Sometimes the absence of proof can be just as informative as proof itself." Sebastian said from behind him as lean fingers adjusted the fit of his gown.

"Fine. Just don't get caught. If anyone sees you down there and unhurt, tongues will wag in the village." Ciel said as his hair was brushed into its usual style.

"Yes, My Lord."

Ciel was awoken the next morning by Sebastian in the usual fashion. He waited until the demon had furnished him with his first cup of Ceylon before asking the obvious question.

"Did you find anything on the rocks?"

"No, Sir, I'm afraid not. However I did find something interesting in the churchyard." The butler replied, prompting the boy to stop mid-sip. He replaced his cup on the saucer.

"What were you doing in the churchyard?"

"It was your suggestion that the victim may have been given a proper burial. I examined the death register in the church office and found a Mr. Colin Daughtry had died of natural causes and been buried last Wednesday. When I investigated his grave…"

"If your next actions involve a shovel and half-an-hour of moving soil by moonlight, I hope you found the body I want or else I'll be calling you a ghoul for the next fortnight." Ciel told him curtly. Sebastian inclined his head and smiled.

"I did. Resting on top of the coffin lid, I found a gentleman with a head injury that put me in mind of Humpty Dumpty. I imagine he is not a legal resident of those grounds." The demon explained with a cheerful tone entirely at odds with the gruesome news it underpinned. The boy considered.

"What did you do with your discovery? You haven't brought it back to the cottage, have you?"

"The body is still in Mr Daughtry's grave for the moment, Sir. I replaced the earth so it did not appear disturbed." Sebastian said. Ciel nodded, taking another sip now it appeared the situation was under control.

"Any formal identification?"

"No, his pockets were empty. However, judging from his clothes and the somewhat advanced state of decomposition, I believe he was a local fisherman that had to have been killed when it last rained since the body was covered with mould." The demon said confidently. The boy was not wholly convinced.

"Why do you say local? According to the pub owner, none of his regular customers are missing."

"He was wearing hobnail boots that used fishhooks instead of spikes, a practice I am told is only found in the vicinity of the village and only amongst the Bartleby-on-Sea fishing community."

"We need an identity. Was there no other distinguishing item or feature that could help us?"

"I believe this might assist you and Clarence with your efforts." Sebastian said producing a silver-coloured pendant on a chain from inside his coat pocket. Ciel placed his cup on the nightstand and relieved his butler of the clue. He recognised it as a Saint Christopher's medal, the patron saint of travellers. Turning it over revealed the initial scratched into the metal.

"You say you found the corpse in Colin Daughtry's grave?"

"That is correct, Master."

"And was this pendant around the neck or in one of the pockets when you discovered it?"

"Around the neck, Sir. What of it?"

"It may just be coincidence, but perhaps the victim and Mr Daughtry are related. If the 'D' on this pendant stands for Daughtry, we may have a decent lead to follow in this mystery." The boy said thumbing the pendant and being surprised to find it was real sterling silver. "This seems like a gift rather than something people might buy for themselves. Did Daughtry's headstone have anything on it of note? Most of them say 'father to' or 'husband to' these days."

"Only if it is a familial plot and those relations referenced are also deceased, Sir. It would appear nobody else in Mr Daughtry's lineage has passed on yet. The headstone only indicated he had departed this life aged seventy-six." Sebastian answered whilst crossing to the armoire. Ciel nodded in understanding as the butler selected some more casual clothes for him to wear.

"Clarence should really be told of these developments. I think we would be upset to learn we had jumped too far ahead in this mystery. I want to visit him after breakfast. What time is it now?" The boy asked as Sebastian divested him of his nightshirt before putting on his underwear.

"Just after seven-thirty, Sir."

"I want to be at the Linnet and Lark by nine."

"Yes, My Lord."

Ciel and Sebastian walked into the pub just as the wall clock ticked over to nine. The boy was surprised by how crowded it was for so early in the morning. Every table and barstool in the room was awash with idle chatter and clinking glasses whilst the strong aroma of pipe tobacco dominated the air. There was something else in the air though. It took Ciel a moment to identify it, but once he had the boy wondered how it could have ever eluded him. Fish. The whole bar smelt of fish. He realised them that the entire crowd was composed of nothing but fishermen and trawlers, likely just returned from the sea. The pair made their way to the bar where Harry was stood seeming to be in the midst of pouring a never-ending ream of empty pint glasses. The barman barely gave them a lingering glance before returning to his work. Seeing that the man was not in a position to give conversation, the boy sought out Clarence.

He spotted the blond boy in an apron, exchanging a table's empty glasses for new drinks. The boy also seemed engrossed in his work. Ciel sighed.

"I'll never be able to talk him like this." He muttered to Sebastian before a solution dawned on him. He called for Harry's attention by waving a couple of gold sovereigns above the swarm surrounding the bar with their half-pennies and shillings.

"You're not ripe enough for a beer, lad."

"I don't want one. This is my butler, Sebastian. He'll be filling in for Clarence for a few hours. Put him to work however you please. Here, consider this an advance." Ciel said dropping the sovereigns into Harry's meaty hand. The man stared at the sovereigns before settling his gaze on Sebastian in obvious disapproval.

"Look, as much as I, uh, appreciate your offer, we're very busy. With the lads back from a couple of months graft at sea, I need Clare-Clare and his experience handling the ugly crowds more than I need a couple of sovereigns." Harry said sliding his hand and the sovereigns back over to Ciel. Sebastian closed the barman's fist for him.

"I assure you I have more than enough experience to help you this morning. You know of the Corn Mill public house in St Ives?"

"Of course. The poor bastards are always treading water with tourists and locals every week. What about it?"

"I worked there for five years." This revelation had a dramatic effect on Harry. As soon as Sebastian finished speaking, the barman involuntarily dropped the sovereigns on the floor as his eyes widened in shock. Ciel was astonished by how still Harry had gone in the aftermath. The man said nothing for more than fifteen seconds before finding his voice.

"Then what the bloody hell are you doing on that side of the bar? Take your fancy coat off, grab an apron and get your arse in gear!" Harry shouted as complaints of poor service drifted from the far side of the bar. "In a minute you miserable sods!" The barman yelled back at them with a hand cupped to his cheek. He turned to Ciel. "Grab Clare-Clare and tell him to come back at one. Now bugger off." The boy looked from Harry to Sebastian as the demon flung on an apron and prepared to begin serving. The butler inclined his head to wordlessly say he could handle the task before him. Satisfied, Ciel grabbed Clarence by the arm as the boy set down another tray of empty glasses and walked him out of the chaos without a word.

"Sebastian worked at the Corn Mill?" Clarence checked as the two of them began their journey to the churchyard. The blond boy sounded as astonished as his employer by the claim. Ciel was intrigued by this attitude.

"Why is that so surprising?"

"The Corn Mill has a reputation as a barman's graveyard. The place is so crazy because of tourists and locals that most landlords have heart attacks from all the pressure. Even if you survive a stint there, the rumour is you cut your life expectancy in half. Most barboys and barman don't last longer than six months before calling last orders. How long did he work there?"

"Five years."

"Fucking hell." Clarence said to make both of them stop moving forward. Ciel stared at the Cornish boy in surprise at his cursing. Clarence was not visibly embarrassed by the expletive: he still looked like he was trying to process Sebastian's record tenure at the Corn Mill. It seemed to be quite a battle judging by how hard he was staring into space. Ciel smiled.

"You really are from the country, aren't you?"

"I can't believe he spent five years working there and still looks…fresh." Clarence said having apparently not heard his companion's last remark. Ciel shrugged.

"He has an excellent temper."

"Yeah, I guess he must do." The blond agreed with a nod of his head before his concentration was replaced with horror. He looked at the older boy with wide eyes before covering his mouth. "I can't believe I just said that. I'm sorry. We're still friends, right?" Ciel rolled his eyes before patting his companion on the back.

"I'm not so delicate that one example of foul language will scar me for life. Don't worry about it. Let's get to the church."

During the fifteen minute journey to the churchyard, Ciel took the opportunity to quiz Clarence on Colin Daughtry. Unsurprisingly, the blond boy was familiar enough with Daughtry to be on first-name terms with him. He painted a picture of a retired fisherman who had spent nearly all of his life at sea on fishing boats and even whaling ships when he worked in Japan. Clarence said the man had been a regular down the pub and often entertained people with stories of his life when Bill Thomas was still fresh enough to keep his trap shut. He lived with his wife, Eileen, on a small estate just north of the village where he bred horses and tended livestock the youth told Ciel. When pressed if the couple had any children he knew of, Clarence cheerily told him about another Daughtry he knew well. As they approached the church, the blond boy explained that Jonathan Daughtry was a sailor in the merchant navy and often took his shore leave in the village when the opportunity arose. He was the couple's only surviving son and had attended his father's funeral last Wednesday after clearing it through his commander before leaving the next day.

"He's really nice. He lets me go fishing with him on the beach. He's really good at fishing and once, he caught a fish this big." Clarence said extending his arms out as far as they would go to emphasise the monstrous nature of the catch as they entered the churchyard. Ciel smiled.

"That is fairly large by anyone's standards. Tell me, would you recognise Jonathan Daughtry if you saw him?"

"Definitely. He's kind of hard to miss." Clarence informed the older boy with a sly grin to suggest the man was on the large side. Ciel nodded as they stopped in front of Colin Daughtry's grave.

"So, what's this thing you wanted to show me? You said you'd found a big piece of the puzzle?" The blond inquired whilst giving the old man's headstone a sad glance. Ciel ushered him forward to the ground in front of the headstone and then gestured for him to crouch down. Clarence frowned but did so, joining his companion close to the earth. The older boy then gently brushed away the topsoil in beneath them. Five minutes later, they were confronted with the rotting and distorted face of a heavily-bearded man missing one of his eyes with a large hole where his forehead ought to have been. Sebastian had only reburied the corpse a foot under the surface for ease of access, something Ciel knew would come in handy when armed with an eyewitness.

"Is this Jonathan Daughtry?" He asked Clarence. The blond boy said nothing. When a fat maggot slithered out of the corpse's left nostril, the Cornish youth turned to the side and vomited. Ciel frowned at the display before glancing back down at the decayed ruins of what was once a human being without any emotion. "I thought you'd have a stronger stomach than this." The older boy commented as Clarence spat the last of what appeared to have been his breakfast on the grass.

"That doesn't make you want to sick up everywhere?" The blond said staggering to his feet and walking away from the grave without looking back. Ciel draped his jacket over the face and caught up with his companion. Clarence was almost in tears. "That's a horrible thing to do to a friend." The youth said sniffing slightly. "Why'd you show me that?" The older boy was bemused.

"I need you to identify the body. I don't know who it is. I thought you might. I mean, if it's not Jonathan Daughtry…"

"It is Johnny! Alright? It is him." Clarence yelled angrily. "I told you he was my friend so you show me his broken skull? What the hell is wrong with you?" Ciel did not quite know what to say. He had been surrounded by murder and mayhem so often he assumed everyone was as unmoved by death as he was. And perhaps in his haste to solve this mystery, he had forgotten that Clarence was younger and more naïve of the world than he was. The older boy chose his words carefully.

"I imagine many things are wrong with me if you are any indication. I suppose you should know that when I stabbed Lord Winslow through the eye in London, it did not traumatise me, even when I was covered in his blood. This is because I have already been snapped apart inside by other traumas. This is not some kind of excuse for my behaviour just now, because what I just did was inexcusable. He was your friend and you should be allowed to cherish memories of him. I have tainted that just now and for that I am…truly and deeply sorry. I hope you can find it in your heart to…" Ciel did not need to finish his sentence. Clarence was already hugging him tightly. The older boy recognised it as being born out of grief, not forgiveness.

"I'm sorry too. I don't like yelling at people. I keep forgetting you don't have parents to tell you off. _Ankow hurtya peum_." The Cornish boy said in a fragile voice.

"What does it mean?"

"Death hurts everyone." Clarence said continuing to squeeze his companion. Ciel understood what was expected of him and reciprocated by embracing the younger boy back. He looked over at the Daughtry grave, thinking of the corpse lying just underneath his jacket. He nodded.

"Yes, it certainly does."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Moving right along…**

 **Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, At Leisure 7**

"I've never seen a board game like this before." Clarence said as the two of them sat in Ciel's cottage in the living room. The older boy smiled.

"It's something of my own design. This is the prototype my company is considering for mass manufacture. I thought I might conduct a little market research with my target consumers." The blond youth smiled sheepishly. He pulled his eyes down, rocking one of the game's pieces, a silver Minotaur, with a single finger.

"Mum and I couldn't afford to buy something like this. We barely make enough between us to pay for my London magazines and schoolbooks." Clarence said with a sigh. Ciel knew he was still seeing Jonathan Daughtry's face. The older boy knew the answer to grief and trauma of this kind. Distractions offered the only escape. He indicated the board with open hands.

"Well if we play and if you like it, you may have the prototype to keep." Ciel said. His companion's green eyes flashed up to regard his, a look of disbelief clearly visible.

"Really?"

"After what happened earlier, it is the least I can do."

"And you're sure you want to play this? You don't want to try and teach me chess or something a little more…sophisticated?"

"Chess is not as sophisticated as you might think. Far from being a game of wit and intellect, it is more a test. It pits one ego against another, not for the joy of competition or spirit of sportsmanship but for vanity. The victor of such a battle is not necessarily the better player but the superior manipulator of his fellow man. This game here is a game of fun, not ego or intellect. It is superior to chess in that way and all the better for it."

"There are plenty of words there I don't understand, Ciel. But it seems to me that you think chess is evil." Clarence said with a smile as he picked up a silver king bearing a golden crown. "Is this who you want to be for the game? I think you and he hold yourselves the same way."

"And what way is that?"

Clarence smiled. "Regally." Ciel raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise. There was no sarcasm or bitterness or contempt from the blond boy in giving such an answer. It was meant honestly. Clarence did think of him very highly. It was flattering. The older youth smiled back.

"That's a very descriptive word. Did you learn it recently?"

"Last night. Bill told me it when I went to visit. I said you were like a king in the way you carried yourself and he said that perhaps I could say you were regal. I like the way it sounds with a 'ly' on the end." The Cornish boy explained holding the king at eye-level and stroking his crown as if to ascertain its reality. Ciel watched him in fascination. He was distracted as intended, but needed to be kept in the present.

"Even after what I did this morning you still think I'm regal?"

"I do. But I also see you're human now as well."

"How's that?"

"You made a mistake showing me Johnny like that. You thought I was like you, but I'm not. Kings don't make mistakes. It's not that they're perfect and can't, but because they never admit when they're wrong. You did and you said sorry. You're a humble king. It makes you seem more regal than ever." Clarence said whilst holding the king out for him to take, "So the king is yours." Ciel shook his head before reaching out and wrapping his friend's fingers around the piece.

"He's not a king. He is the embodiment of wisdom. The Minotaur is the embodiment of strength. The man is the embodiment of humility. So, in this instance, you are the king. Because you are the wisest in this room. And I, having seen your wisdom first-hand, will be the man." The older boy said picking up the small silver man who sat on his knees. The blond boy looked at the king in his hand then at Ciel's man before looking at the boy himself.

"Nothing is as it seems in your game, is it?"

"No and that is the point. Shall we play?"

The game progressed affably, giving both of them fortune and disaster at different points. The aim of the game was as simple as it needed to be: to move your piece from A to B with the assistance of a pair of die and a selection of game squares that either helped or hindered progress. Clarence was clearly having fun and relishing the imagination of the game if his short cries of joy when the game's instructions struck a particular chord with him were anything to go by. Ciel was surprised to find he was having fun too. He put it down to the Cornish youth's enthusiasm and approval of his creation since he found the game's basic premise somewhat tedious. Although his initial premise involved a more intricate game of chance, Sebastian convinced him to simplify the concept to appeal to children. When Ciel pointed out it appealed to him and that he was a child, the demon had corrected him. _You are not a child, Master. Your childhood ended many years ago. Your opinion cannot be trusted._

"It looks like I won." Clarence said as he pushed his piece into the final square after one last roll of the die. Ciel nodded.

"Yes. You played very well. Did you enjoy it?"

"Yep. It was nice of you to try and take my mind off Johnny. But now I really want to find his killer."

"I know. So let's start at the end of the chain and work our way back."

They returned to the churchyard immediately after and began scouring the area. They found baked footprints hidden in the overgrown grass between some of the older headstones. They displayed the same fishhook made patterns as those found at the murder site. They traced the footprints to a narrow gap in the stone wall that formed a perimeter to the church grounds. Beyond it, they were confronted with a maze of bushes and branches that stretched back into the distance.

"This is strange. The murderer entered the cemetery from this part of the wall. They had to be carrying the body since the impressions of the footsteps are so deep, but they stop in the overgrowth. The footprints don't lead to the burial site. It's like the murderer stopped and waited until the ground had dried before burying the body." Ciel remarked crouching over the set of footprints closest to the start of the shorter grass. Clarence frowned.

"Almost like the murderer was hurrying to bury the body, but then realised how much evidence he was leaving. After the rain on Thursday night, the ground was still wet until Friday afternoon. He's not going to sit here and wait for the ground to dry. He must've hid Johnny in the brush and come back later to bury him, probably at night." The Cornish youth postulated whilst turning his attentions to the growth behind the wall. "Maybe the murderer dropped something in the undergrowth. It wouldn't be difficult with all the branches." The boy added already manoeuvring through the gap in the wall. Ciel stood up and followed him into the bushes.

They picked up an erratic path of footprints in the brush, one that suggested the walker had great difficulty walking in a straight line as well as footprints that crossed over their brethren. "The murderer doubled back on himself." Ciel commented as they pursued the phantom killer to the edge of the bushes. "The footprints are shallower here, these ones over to the left. The murderer had already dropped off the body before he got this far." His companion nodded in agreement. Clarence gestured to the footprints that led into the bushes rather than away.

"Over there, to the left, where the growth is deepest. That looks like a likely hiding place."

When they arrived in the densest part of the wilderness, they found a large pile of dying leaves on dead tree branches that looked to have been cut by a knife. They also found footprints leading to and from the pile as well as many around the trees that shrouded the area in shade. "He hid the body under this self-made pile until the following day. He cut the branches himself to make the cover." Ciel said as they examined the trees surrounding the pile.

"He'd need a lot of branches to cover Johnny. He hasn't cut enough of them here to do it…" Clarence said whilst looking at the dozens of branches left untouched by human hands, "but he could have. So why didn't he and where did the other branches come from?" Ciel moved from the trees he was scrutinising back to the pile. He handled the top branches and frowned.

"They're from different trees. The trees here are elm trees. These top branches are oaks. They've been sourced from some another location not near here. The question is why? What significance do these oak trees have to either the victim or the murderer?"

"Check for knife marks on them." Clarence said whilst continuing to comb the area for clues. The older boy sighed.

"Why? We know they were cut when the tree was alive by the sap inside."

"No. Check for…I think the word is carvings. People around here like to carve things into tree branches. Does that make sense, Ciel?" The blond boy said turning to look at his friend for confirmation. Ciel returned his gaze and nodded.

"Yes, it does." They resumed their respective searches. It took Ciel only a few moments of turning the oak branches to yield a significant clue. On the largest specimen, a hefty thing easily a foot wide and possessing a thickness almost twice that, he found two sets of initials carved right into the bark:

J.D + J.B

"I've made a telling discovery." Ciel told his companion, tracing the carving with his finger.

"Me too." Clarence said drawing up alongside him. The older boy turned to find the blond with the broken hilt of a fishing knife in his hand. "His knife broke. That's why he stopped cutting branches. That's why he went to get more."

"And what do you make of this?"

"It's old. Very old. It's not romantic because there isn't a heart drawn around it. The plus means the two were best friends. First one has to be Johnny's initials. Second one belongs to whoever his best friend used to be." The blond said stooping down to trace the initials with his finger. Ciel was struck by a thought.

"Did he ever mention a friend whose name would fit these initials? Could this be the Brauttigan Harry was talking about in the pub the other day?" Clarence was quick to shake his head.

"Nope. Johnny's best friend was Cornish. He kept telling me so whenever he talked about his schooldays. I think his name might've been Jonathan as well. That's why they became friends, he said, because they had the same first name."

"Still, to take such a clearly-marked branch and use it to conceal a body when there are other branches available without such blatant evidence is strange."

"Yeah, but that's not all. Have you seen the size of this thing? I don't think we could lift it between us and even a grown-up would find it hard to pick up and move on their own."

"Unless they were possessed of some prodigious strength. Or had an accomplice." Ciel mused. His attention was brought back to Clarence when the younger boy opted to sit down on the engraved branch and shrug his shoulders.

"Harry said that Brauttigan guy was a loner in the pub. And we know from Harry that he was the man Bill wrote the Cornish letter for. Plus, if he were a big guy, Harry would've said so. He likes things like that." The Cornish youth pointed out as his companion joined him in sitting on the enormous branch.

"We have a body. We have a crime scene. We have a motive. We have suspects. But we don't have a real theory."

"Maybe Johnny's mum could help us. She could at least tell us about his best friend in school and where this branch comes from. Mums always know things like that." Clarence said with a knowing smile. Ciel could not relate to the gesture. He found he had forgotten his mother's face in recent years, and her kindness. He put it down to his torture having washed all his pleasant memories out to the deeper recesses of his mind. Still, he understood why the blond had suggested they interview her. Mothers know their children best. Lizzie always said as much about the Marchioness. He offered a smile.

"Do they? That would prove a very useful development for our investigation. Would she be willing to speak to us?" The older boy asked. Clarence considered before sticking out his bottom lip and shrugging.

"I guess she'd be okay with that. We'll have to not tell her Johnny's dead though. She might drop dead of grief at losing her husband and her son in the space of a week."

"Shall we go then?" Ciel said already shifting his weight to get to his feet. He was stopped by Clarence's hand taking hold of his forearm. That marked the third time the younger boy had initiated physical contact with him. It was still alien, but Ciel understood how it could replace idle conversation immediately. It told him Clarence would not go further with their mystery today.

"It'll have to be tomorrow if you want me to come. It's almost one now and Harry will play merry hell if I don't appear on time. Sebastian's worked hard enough for me I think." The younger boy said as Ciel resumed his seat.

"Yes, of course. I had not realised time had gone so quickly since the morning."

"Well, we did go to your cottage and back. That was like five miles. And then the game took about an hour or so…" Clarence said before Ciel dismissed anymore listing with a hand gesture.

" _Tempus fugit_. It's Latin for 'time flies'." The older boy said with a smile whilst setting down the lunch box he had been carrying since the morning and prising off the lid. His friend smiled back.

"More pretty words, huh? We have a saying like that in Cornish: _delatya an termyn_. It means kill time." The blond boy said as he selected one of the almond croissants from the box.

"Sounds a little harsh. We haven't killed time by playing games." Ciel remarked offering out the jam pot and breadknife only for Clarence to laugh sweetly and shake his head.

"Killing time is still different from wasting it, Ciel. None of what we've done was a waste, but time dies out anyway. Killing it is almost a kindness if you think about it a certain way." The blond said, his green eyes looking directly into Ciel's even as he spread jam over his pastry. The older boy nodded in some measure of agreement.

"That's an interesting point."

"Like time being able to fly like a bird?" Clarence offered to suggest he found his own theory no more plausible than Latin philosophers' concepts of time whilst taking a bite of his croissant. Ciel, seeing the absurdity of having time soar above the clouds, smirked and nodded as he spread jam on his own croissant.

"Exactly so."

They returned to the pub shortly before one in the afternoon. The once heaving crowds had dispersed, leaving only a chosen few to lie slumped on the floors or over the table tops as testament to how much hard drinking and revelry was wrought on the establishment and Harry's nerves. Despite the evidence of carnage having taken place here in the men left behind, there were no shattered glasses on the floorboards nor puddles of congealed vomit to be found covering the chairs or carpets. In fact, aside from the slumbering drunks, there were no empty glasses yet to be collected or even a single barstool out of place. The two boys approached the bar and found Sebastian with his eyes closed and serenely cleaning a pint glasses with a linen cloth. When they were upon him, the demon casually opened his eyes and greeted them.

"Good afternoon, Young Master and your friend, Sunshine Incarnate. How has your morning been?"

" _Didheurek._ How was your morning, Mr. Butler? I hope Harry didn't work you too hard." Clarence asked hopping up on the barstool before looking around the room. "I've never seen the place this clean after the sailors come to piss all their wages up the wall. Did you do all this on your own?"

"Not all of it. It might surprise you, but your rowdy patrons were quite happy to clean up after themselves. All they needed was a little…persuasion." Sebastian replied whilst directing his last word and an unsettling smile in Ciel's direction when the blond was not watching. The older boy narrowed his eyes at his butler.

"That is quite a skill, Sebastian. I wished I would have known about it earlier, perhaps concerning all the times I had to perform for our honoured guests while hosting in order to gain their favour. Your 'persuasion' would have been very useful then." Ciel responded, trying to sound pleasant for Clarence's sake. Regardless, there was a sharpness in his voice that seemed to launch each word at the demon with an intent to stab deep into his flesh. He supposed he could not help being annoyed at yet another unknown talent being revealed. Clarence turned back to face them as Harry came through a side door. The barman was grinning widely.

"I'd offer to buy that butler off you, Ciel, but I reckon even if I had a million pounds of solid gold to give in exchange, I'd still fall short of his worth. He's a bloody miracle worker! No wonder they had him in St Ives for five years! They were sodding fools to get shut of him! I'd have begged him to stay if I were them, got down on me hands and knees and grovelled for him to keep behind the bar." Harry proclaimed whilst amiably slapping Sebastian on the back. The demon inclined his head.

"You are too kind, Mr. Brayton. I am merely a butler, nothing more."

"It's Harry, Sebastian and you are worth all the gold in El Dorado. Come back anytime if you ever tire of wiping your little lord's arse all the time. You'll always have a job here." Harry said before shifting his gaze to Ciel and winking. "No offence there, lad. It's just a country expression." The older boy managed a loose interpretation of a sporting smile as indignity simmered beneath.

"I can wipe my own arse, thank you, Harry. Clarence I'll see you tomorrow, when you're free to continue our enquiries. Let's go, Sebastian." Ciel said turning his back on them all and beginning his walk to the door.

"Yes, My Lord."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Long time coming I suppose. Here's a little chapter to tide you over until I write the real breakthrough chapter that will set the tone for the remainder of the story. In this chapter, Ciel discusses his concerns with Sebastian. The two boys meet Jonathan Daughtry's mum. Enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian – His Butler, At Leisure 8**

"Did you really work at the Corn Mill?" Ciel asked as the demon served the evening meal to him in the dining room. Tonight was more Asian-themed cuisine, this time donburi from Japan served with sides of pickled cabbage and crispy squid cutlets. Sebastian inclined his head as he lay his master's bowl on the tabletop.

"Indeed, Sir. It was a lifetime ago…perhaps two. I recall patrons were still in the habit of wearing breeches and powdered wigs when I was in the Corn Mill's employ. Please tell me if anything is not to your liking." The butler said stepping to one side and awaiting the boy's verdict. Ciel elected to use chopsticks instead of cutlery. He swallowed a mouthful that contained everything served to him. Sebastian stood patiently. It was very agreeable to him in a way he had not expected.

"It all seems edible. I don't suppose wine is an accompaniment to this dish, is it?"

"It is not traditionally, Master. The usual beverage for a dish of this nature is typically non-alcoholic, however sake and certain beers are permissible if the occasion is of a suitable nature. Please do remember that you are on holiday: you may have wine if you wish." The demon replied in a tone that almost sounded encouraging. Ciel smirked.

"I suppose having such an indulgence would ruin your butler's aesthetic?" The boy said. Sebastian smiled.

"Here Sir my only concern is your aesthetic. What would you like?"

"White wine is good with fish. Get me a sauvignon." Ciel said swallowing another mouthful of his food. The demon bowed low.

"Yes, My Lord."

The boy enjoyed two glasses of a vintage Sauvignon Blanc as he dissected his meal to single grains of rice. Sebastian asked him if he was ready for the dessert as the table was cleared. Ciel slouched back in his chair and shook his head. Despite his inexperience with drunkenness, the boy was aware he was no longer as sharp as at the meal's outset and could feel his desire to converse with Sebastian on an informal level rising steadily.

"Would you care to retire for the evening, Young Master?" The demon asked some minutes later. Ciel looked at his butler and found the image drifted lazily to one side even when focusing.

"No. We need to discuss the investigation. Sit down."

"Sir?"

"Sit down, right here." The boy said pointing to the chair on his immediate left. Sebastian considered a moment before complying with the order. Ciel nodded in satisfaction.

"Tomorrow, Clarence and I are going to interview Daughtry's widow for information. While we are doing this, I want you to visit the islands near the sandbar for evidence of digging. I have suspicions that the riddles in the Cornish letter may have already been solved. This murder was committed almost a week ago after all. I don't want to waste my time looking for treasure if it has already been claimed." The boy said, cupping his hands on his stomach and closing his eyes as his explanation continued of its own accord.

"Will I also be covering Clarence while you conduct this interview?" Sebastian asked. Ciel did not bother to open his eyes in answering.

"I think that's self-explanatory. We shall need at least two hours."

"Of course, Master. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. I wish to inform you that your lectures on socializing are rotten. I almost sabotaged my relationship with Clarence today because you did not tell me the correct method for dealing with a common social situation." Ciel said stifling a yawn.

"May I ask for the particulars of this 'common' situation, Sir?"

"Revealing the corpse of a friend in a graveyard to allow progression of a murder investigation. I did it all wrong and Clarence was both physically sick and angry with me. It is entirely down to your tutelage being slipshod."

"I would not call such a scenario common in any sense of the word, Young Master. If anything, it is so uncommon as to not have any printed guidance on the matter whatsoever. I do believe I cautioned you to be delicate." Sebastian countered. Ciel was far from convinced. He sighed in irritation.

"Your excuses for incompetence grow more absurd by the day, Sebastian. I wish you would admit your failings as a teacher so we may go forward."

"Perhaps you might open your eyes, Master?" The butler said without any hint of offence or anger in his voice. The boy scoffed whilst slumping further down the backrest.

"Why? I know what your stupid face looks like."

"Because if you don't, I believe it will be time for bed."

"You do not give me orders, demon. You are my servant. We are not equals." Ciel said clumsily hauling himself back to a dignified sitting position before forcing his eyes open. Sebastian had his usual smile of amusement etched into his face. It appeared to be expanding and shortening at will, like the rest of his face and the room. Alcohol had truly taken hold now.

"I am aware of this, however, your health and wellbeing must be prioritized regardless. Since you are not in a fully fit state to administrate yourself, I must do so on your behalf."

"Do you love me, Sebastian?"

"No, Young Master. I am incapable of such attachment. I am very fond of you, but nothing else."

"Then it won't hurt you when I say I'd really like to bury you in the cemetery."

"I expected as much. I believe intoxication is causing you to be more belligerent than usual, a frightening proposition for your enemies to be certain." Sebastian said serenely whilst getting to his feet. Ciel smirked.

"I think I scare Clarence as well. I would really prefer not to." The boy said with a long sigh, "I'd like it if someone liked me. When I was younger, everyone liked me. I would go to parties and get so much attention from the other children that their parents would come to see what the fuss was about." He found the demon now kneeling at his side.

"Perhaps being tortured by cultists and making a pact with a demon has reduced your appeal. Or maybe it is as simple a matter that you are not cute anymore. You are thirteen after all, not nine." Sebastian offered. Ciel puffed out his cheeks.

"Well, you always fraudulently claim to be a master of aesthetics: am I still cute or not?"

"Adolescence has yet to distort your proportions or stretch your face so I would say, from a purely aesthetical standpoint, you are cute. Personally, I have always found you to be beautiful. Even when begging for your life or taking the life of another in cold blood, you are angelic." The demon said briefly patting his master's hand. Ciel shrugged.

"So by that logic, it's my less than sunny disposition scaring-"

"He's not scared of you, Young Master. Forgive me for interrupting, but that young man is not scared of you. If he were, he would not have continued to assist you in your investigations after such a gruesome unveiling. That means you salvaged the situation correctly. Since we did not cover such an eventuality in your social etiquette studies, you rescued your friendship by using your instincts. It means you understand Clarence better than you think. And I think you could benefit by following your instincts more often. Shall I bring you dessert now?"

"No, take me to bed. I need to be up early." Ciel said extending his arms out to the sides. Sebastian hoisted him out of the chair before carrying him in the usual bride-like fashion.

"Yes, My Lord. Very sensible of you."

"I don't really want to bury you in a cemetery." The boy admitted as the demon scaled the stairs.

"No?"

"No. I want to throw you off a bottomless cliff instead."

"Much better, Sir. Much better."

They entered the pub the following morning around eight. There were already a handful of patrons propping up a few tables and Bill Thomas holding up the bar as they went to speak to Harry. The barman was hunched over a ledger with a pencil in his hand and a frown on his face. Ciel noticed Clarence was sat on the stool just in front of Harry and appeared to be helping him with his problems.

"One or two barrels of Guinness, Clare-Clare?" Ciel heard the barman ask as they drew within earshot.

"I'd say one. The Irish haven't been in for nearly six months now."

"Probably drank themselves to death on whiskey." Harry said with a smirk whilst penciling something in the ledger.

"Not all Irishmen are drunkards." Ciel said to get their attention. The barman looked up and chuckled.

"That maybe so, my little lord, but I have no interest in sober Irishmen, just their sozzled comrades. I suppose you want to borrow my favourite barboy for more fun and games today?"

"If that's not a problem. Sebastian would be more than happy to fill in whilst Clarence is indisposed, of course. I understand if you wish some kind of monetary compensation…" Ciel said reaching into his jacket pocket only for Harry to stop him with a hand gesture.

"Keep your cash, lad: I'm not that greedy. In fact," The barman dug a gold sovereign out his trouser pocket and passed it over for the older boy to take, "have this one back. It's not that I couldn't use it, just that one's enough for this tip of a pub to run for weeks. Appreciate it all the same. Clare-Clare is yours as soon as he's done helping me knock up the supply list for next month." Ciel took back the sovereign with an incline of his head. "Slow day today, Sebastian. If I bother you too much with my chat, just tell me to sod off. Watch Bill here: he tries to sneak a free pint every now and again." Harry said looking at the demon with a smile whilst thumbing in Bill Thomas' direction.

Fields of rich, purple lavender flanked the boys on either side, filling the air with their distinctive aroma as they trekked along the dirt path signposted for the Daughtry cottage some forty minutes later. "Do you always help Harry with his orders?" Ciel asked as a steep hill loomed less than forty feet in front of them.

"Harry's not too good with the maths behind ordering. Sometimes he's worried he'll overdo the order and get more than he can sell. I help him sidestep that hole." Clarence said with a smile.

"He seems…very fond of you."

"Well, most people would not let a ten-year-old work in a bar, but Harry did. Even though I was small and clumsy, he wanted to help me and my mum out by giving me a job and a wage. Since she works full-time at the flourmill and I got chased out of school, there was no-one to watch me during the day. Harry sort of watches me during the day." The blond boy explained as they began to scale the hill.

"That sounds charitable."

"Harry's a widower. He lost his wife and children to tuberculosis in Southampton almost a decade ago. It's a wonder he's pleasant at all." Clarence said in a casual tone that suggested it was common knowledge in the community. Ciel was surprised by Harry's temperament even more, given his past was filled with such tragedy. His attitude was admirable. The older boy nodded.

"I guess so."

"This is the most time off I've had in a year." Clarence remarked as the hill became even steeper. "It makes me wish you stayed all year round instead of just a week."

"I understand. I have a job as well. Sometimes I wish London could go one week without someone important being killed against the Queen's wishes. I might have more time off too." Ciel replied, finding the gradient to be more of a physical challenge than his companion who seemed to be casually strolling up.

"Do you think this J.B is going to turn out to be the murderer?" The Cornish youth inquired as they reached the summit.

"I would like a credible suspect to pin all this conjecture on. Jonathan's friend seems a likely candidate. Are you not in agreement?" Ciel said as they stood at the white picket fence that surrounded the picturesque white cottage. Clarence shrugged whilst thumbing the petals of a red rose just inside the fence. There were dozens of them, all prize specimens, following the entirety of the fence line.

"I don't know. My detective instincts aren't as tuned as yours I think. What if the oak branches were just a way of throwing us off the trail?"

"That would mean the murderer expected us to find the branches, which meant he expected us to find the body buried in the grave as well. How likely is that, really? His mother doesn't even know he's missing and only my cottage is up on the cliffs where the blood was found. No, this whole thing is far simpler than you think." Ciel said examining one of the roses for himself. He sniffed it. The fragrance was unusually strong.

"They're pretty, huh?" The blond boy said.

"Yes, and remarkably fragrant. Is this one of Mrs. Daughtry's hobbies?"

"Horticulture?" Clarence said with a big grin. Ciel smiled back at his choice of word.

"Impressive. Studying your dictionary?"

"Yeah. I like Latin. It's very…posh-sounding." The Cornish youth said. His companion smirked.

"Yes it is. So, how should I approach Mrs. Daughtry so I do not offend her like Mr. Thomas?"

"Don't mention her only son being dead under any circumstances. Don't patronize her under any circumstances either she's a very proud and intelligent lady who's too old to be talked down to by anybody under fifty. Also let her steer the conversation and call you by your first name. Remember her husband only passed a few days ago if you get mad. She doesn't do titles or airs."

"I see. Is there any chance she knows who I am?" Ciel asked having picked up on the strange phenomena that everyone he had met in the village so far knew who he was and what he did. Clarence nodded.

"She'll probably recognize you. She gets a paper from London delivered every week that's kind of the reason I know about you to begin with. She let me borrow a few the first time I came over. Now I have my own subscription. Ready to get some answers?" The blond boy checked as his knuckles were poised to rap on the front door. Ciel prepared himself for another onslaught of unwanted informality. He nodded.

"Absolutely."

Clarence knocked twice and waited. A short silence followed. When Ciel was about to suggest he knock again, the door swung open and a tall, robust woman with wrinkles that appeared carved into her skin eyed them in bemusement. She took an almost cursory glance at the blond boy before focusing all her attentions on Ciel. She squinted then produced a thick pair of spectacles, donning them a moment later. She scrutinized him again. Her eyebrows shot up.

"Taking a break from murdering folk are you, Ciel?" She said accusatively. The older boy frowned at just about everything in that sentence. He remembered Clarence's advice of a dead husband and held his tongue.

"I don't murder people, Mrs. Daughtry. I only kill in self-defence."

"I'm sure you like to think so, but stabbing a man through the eye is little much."

"I had very little choice if I wanted to live another day. I had already been stabbed twice by that maniac by that point, and the house was on fire." Ciel pointed out before glancing over at Clarence who looked shocked by this information. Clearly the particulars had been left out of the papers. The old woman crossed her arms and sneered.

"I see. You're just like all irresponsible men, full of excuses."

"I'm not making an excuse, Mrs. Daughtry, simply explaining facts you may not be aware of." Ciel responded coolly, despite his anger rising. The widow's hard expression faded. A large smile replaced it. She shook her head in something akin to wonderment.

"My goodness, you really are cool as a cucumber when under brimstone and bluster. I thought it was an exaggeration. Pleased to meet you, young man." She said genially before turning to her other visitor, "Clarence, you didn't tell me you knew Ciel Phantomhive. I thought we were both just admirers from afar."

"He's having a holiday here for the week, Mrs. Daughtry. I met him up on the cliffs. I thought you might like to meet him. Maybe it could cheer you up a little?" Clarence said to earn an appreciative pat on the head from the old woman. She put her other hand over her heart.

"Aren't you sweet? It's just a shame Colin couldn't hang in for another week to meet him too. Come on in, please. Either wipe your feet or take your shoes off. I can't abide dirt." She added before disappearing inside.

"She's really house-proud too." Clarence said when Ciel stared at him in bewilderment.

"Is it safe?" Ciel asked taken aback by the old woman's brazen and bossy manner. He was unaccustomed to taking orders from anyone but Her Majesty. Clarence laughed.

"You go after murderers and other evil people every day: are you seriously telling me Ciel Phantomhive is scared of an old lady and being ordered to take his shoes off? Seriously?" The Cornish youth said having already removed his own shoes as he sat on the floor just inside the doorway. Ciel rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I suppose I have no choice when you put it like that." He said stooping down to untie his laces. Clarence stopped him before he could take off his left shoe.

"Best do that inside, you know, where there isn't dirt?" The younger boy pointed out with a teasing smile. Ciel inclined his head then shook his socked foot free of its prison. He pushed it into Clarence's chest to shift him back a few inches from the doorway.

"You'd best shift your arse back so I can actually do that then." The older boy countered with a smile of his own. The Cornish youth nodded in agreement before scooting further back into the carpeted hallway.

"Touché. It's French for well-done or something, right?" Clarence checked as the two boys sat in the hallway. Ciel nodded as he slipped off his other shoe and arranged them against the skirting board.

"That's right."

"Are you coming boys? Or should I eat all these leftover cakes by myself?" Mrs. Daughtry's voice called to them from inside the house. Both scrambled to their feet and raced each other for the promise of cakes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: We are now entering the home stretch of this story with roughly three more chapters to come following this entry. Please enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian – His Butler, At Leisure 9**

"I don't know what it is about death," Mrs. Daughtry remarked setting down a tea tray piled with buns in front of her guests, "but whenever there's one in this family, I bake so many cakes I end up throwing most of them out." She said sitting down opposite them, "and that's after giving as many away as the village can hold down."

"How long were you and your husband married, Mrs. Daughtry?" Ciel asked taking one of the buns. The old woman considered the matter carefully.

"Over fifty years. Closer to sixty really. I think it would've been fifty-eight years if Colin had toughed out another four months. I married him when I was sixteen and he was…nineteen I think. He was very fresh-faced I remember so it was hard to tell exactly how old he was." She frowned before nodding affirmatively. "Yes, he would've been seventy-seven in October. I know because my Jonathan was born on his birthday forty-four years ago when he was thirty-two. We had children late, you see." She looked at Clarence. "Did you see Johnny before he left, Clarence? He was very keen to see you again."

"Yeah, I saw him, Mrs. Daughtry. He came into the pub when I was leaving."

"Did he give you a big hug?"

"Yeah, practically squeezed the life out of me."

"Ah, Johnny was never fond of children you see, Ciel. That's why he never married or had children of his own. He hated the idea of being trapped. It was probably why he went to sea as soon as he finished school. But, for some reason, he adored this little Cornish mite here." The old woman said before reaching over the table and ruffling the younger boy's hair. Ciel smiled.

"It seems he isn't the only one in your family, Mrs. Daughtry." He remarked as she leant back in her chair again.

"And you, Mr. Earl of the Realm? You've succumbed to his charms as well, it would seem." Eileen Daughtry remarked with a smile before appearing to appraise them as a pair. She nodded. "You do seem to complement one another well. I'm glad he has a friend to play with. He gets terribly lonely sometimes, poor boy." Clarence's sunny expression fell away after that well-meant comment. He looked down at his bun and began to pick at it. Ciel patted him on the shoulder.

"Well he won't be lonely while I'm here, Mrs. Daughtry, I promise you that. Clarence, I believe we wanted to ask her something about Johnny, didn't we?" The older boy said to prompt his companion into participating again. The Cornish youth looked up at Ciel. After gifting him a genuine smile, the older boy was pleased Clarence was able to return the gesture. The blond turned his gaze on their host.

"That's right. We were playing in the woods earlier and we came across a carving on one of the trees that was really interesting. It said J.D + J.B and was on one of the big oak trees. Did Johnny carve it?"

"Oh my lord. That's almost as old as he is, that carving. Johnny was always fond of whittling when he was no higher than a sack of flour. My Colin was a master of the whittling art, used to carve all manner of animals for Johnny to play with. He began teaching him when he was only five and very, very carefully. Just like his father, Johnny was a natural. I reckon he must've carved on that oak tree, oh, when he was about seven or so. It apparently took him three days to finish it. He was very proud of it." The old widower recalled with a clarity of thought that impressed her older guest. He finished his bun in another bite. They were delicious if a tad dry.

"We were wondering who J.B is, Mrs. Daughtry." Ciel said helping himself to another cake, "perhaps you might shed some light on that for us?" He asked taking a bite of his latest treat. Mrs. Daughtry nodded affirmatively.

"Jonathan Brown is who that is, Ciel. He was Johnny's best friend all through school and they even went into the merchant navy together. Him and his mum used to live on the other side of the village, near the church. She passed away about ten years ago now. He never came to her funeral. Johnny wrote me about eight months after he went to sea to say Jimmy Brown had left the boat in the Caribbean and never got back on before they sailed. Since then, no-one's seen anything of him."

"Did Johnny stay in touch with him at all after he left the ship?" Clarence inquired polishing off another cake from the tray. The old woman let out a deflated and somewhat weary sigh.

"Johnny tried to. He sent letters to the Caribbean port Jimmy left at, told him to send his replies back to the village, but he never got anything back. Even when he came for his dad's funeral, he asked if Jimmy had sent anything. It's been almost thirty years, but Johnny still hopes to find him again."

"What about his mother, when she was alive?" Ciel said taking another bite of his cake. Their host adopted a sad smile.

"Nothing. Poor old Elsie never got so much as a postcard from her son after he ran to the Caribbean. Twenty odd years and she got no word at all. In the end, I think that's what killed her. A broken heart is something no doctor can fix."

"Do you think he's even still alive?" Clarence said, now apparently ignoring the cakes in favour of listening closely. After another bite, Ciel joined him in the gesture. Mrs. Daughtry gave them a 'search me' hand gesture.

"I'd like to think so, for Johnny's sake. Nothing has ever broken my heart more than having to tell him no every time he asks after Jimmy. But if Jimmy's mother hadn't heard from him before she died, I doubt Johnny will ever get in touch with him."

"Could he have changed his name?" Clarence inquired leaning forward. The old woman scoffed derisively.

"Anything's possible after thirty years, lad."

"What about Jimmy's father? What happened to him?" Ciel asked in an effort to pinpoint some sort of link between their evidence and this new suspect.

"Drowned out on the coast during the Trawler Disaster in '41. They were out on the sea in bad conditions when the boat capsized and killed everyone on board, apart from one. My Colin was the only man to make land after it capsized. The other nine all drowned. We had a lot of widows made that day. He's buried in the churchyard. She is and all – they share the same plot." The widow revealed. Ciel found the tragedy to be tame and rather commonplace given their location and local profession inviting danger. Still, he was polite.

"Did you know him?" The older boy asked.

"Only through Elsie afterwards. She loved talking about him to us. Colin didn't really know him because Nicholas Brown was new to his crew when the disaster happened. But he was always very nice to her and Jimmy because he had a little survivor's guilt. Most of the other widows remarried, on account of their young children, but Elsie never did. I respected her for that. She said he was her one and only true love, just like Colin was for me. I rest easier these days, knowing the two of them are together up there in the kingdom. My husband's just going to have to drag his heels until I join him. More cakes?"

They stayed a while longer, listening to the old woman tell more stories about her husband and son with a fondness that only came from true contentment. Eileen Daughtry possessed the sort of memories Ciel wished could form part of his own childhood. They painted such a pleasant and idyllic picture of life in this quiet coastal village that he could almost imagine it for himself. Of course that was nothing but daydreaming and Ciel knew it all too well. Still, when they took their leave and began the trek back to the pub, the older boy hoped she did not have too much longer to wait before joining her family. He marked it as one of the few things he wanted not devoted towards vengeance and bloodshed. He allowed himself to smile at that.

"Do you really think that our murderer might be a man nobody's seen in thirty years?" The blond boy asked as they descended the hill from the cottage.

"At this point it is not inconceivable to suggest such a possibility. A name change and alternate identity are not hard to cultivate if one has had three decades to invent them." Ciel replied running his hand through the lavender as they walked the dirt path back to the village.

"But where do you start with proving something like that? It's pretty complicated stuff."

"You look for links. If there are enough links between two things, generally there is enough to prove one thing led to another."

"Okay, so one of these things is Jimmy Brown: what's the other thing?"

"His parents' grave."

Half-an-hour later, they were stood in the churchyard looking down on the headstone of Nicholas and Elsie Brown. Both noticed the same thing engraved on the stone. They exchanged glances.

"Cornish." Clarence said with a frown, "Their epitaph is written in Cornish."

"What does it say?"

"My courage is on the shoal, my treasure lies beneath its broken heart." The Cornish youth translated. Ciel furrowed his brow in thought.

"It doesn't echo any lines in Bill Thomas' story, but I doubt it's talking about some other treasure out at sea."

"Y'know, the fact it's written in Cornish might mean that Jimmy Brown's mother was Cornish too. If we could find her family name in the marriage register, it might give us somewhere to look." Clarence suggested with a shrug that said he was not too confident of his idea. Ciel liked the notion, but was curious.

"What does a Cornish name look like? Clarence is certainly not Cornish." He said only for his companion to roll his eyes.

"It's not my real name. It's just my English name." The Cornish youth explained with a sheepish smile.

"What is your true name then?"

"Promise you won't laugh?"

"Of course. So?"

"Clemo. Clemo Gwinnel." Clarence said with a foreign lilt. Ciel smiled.

"That sounds nice. Why do you use an English name when everyone here knows you're Cornish anyway?"

"I like it better. My mum calls me Clemo at home, but everywhere else she uses Clarence as well. Is there a reason you have a French name instead of an English one?" The blond inquired. Despite never having an answer for the throngs of people during his earlier childhood, Ciel had since discovered the origins of his name. He found he was quite keen to share it with Clarence, since the boy was so forthcoming with his own secrets.

"I was apparently conceived in France. You understand what I mean by conceived?"

"Your parents had sex in France, right? Nine months after, you were born. That's how it works, right?" Clarence said with an expression that said he was trying to picture the chain of events in his head that led to the older boy's birth. It was apparently quite an amusing sight judging by the grin on the Cornish youth's face. Ciel felt his face flush slightly but mustered a sporting smile.

"Yes. Very good. Shall we go look at the register now?"

"Sure. It's inside the church. Come on."

The interior of the ancient-looking church was plain and simple. Aside from the wooden pews, altar and single stained-glass window behind the altar, the space was empty. Ciel had never associated churches with anything else but funerals. As a consequence as they approached the altar he was disappointed by the lack of a coffin, something he privately thought horribly morbid, even for a Phantomhive. Resting to one side of the varnished crucifix that dominated the space atop of the altar was a large leather-bound ledger. It had the word REGISTER emblazoned across its breadth in gold-leaf, but nothing more. As Clarence confidently opened it, a side door opened.

"Do I have visitors?" A voice asked before a large and jolly-looking old priest with a bald head and thick grey beard entered the room. As it seemed with everyone they met in this village, the priest looked pleased by Clarence's presence. "Hou, Kernewek mab!" The man exclaimed before ambling over and embracing the blond boy in a friendly hug. Ciel was becoming more baffled by his friend's claim he had been chased out of school. So far, there was no-one who did not adore the sight of him. "It has been almost a month since I last saw you! How are you? How is your dear mother?"

"Still trying to read the Bible, Father Gloyn." Clarence said as the priest released him. The old man frowned.

"Have you offered my services to her? I would gladly teach her if she would just come by once in a while."

"She's embarrassed I think."

"Well she needn't be. I believe in the cities, such a lack of learning is commonplace. Please extend my invitation again if you could." Father Gloyn said, squeezing the boy's shoulder genially. He turned his attentions to Ciel.

"Let me guess: you know who I am as well?" The older boy said with resignation. The priest nodded.

"It is hard not to when I must defend the purity and innocence of children to this village and they throw your dark exploits back in my face."

"Why must you defend children in this village? Surely you are beyond suspicions of witchcraft and the devil incarnate."

"You would be surprised. Rumors of demons and black magic are still rife in this part of the world. Thanks to word of your deeds in London, there are some villagers who believe you are a demon yourself. They fear their children may also be possessed by the devil if they continue to hear stories about you."

"That is, without doubt, the stupidest thing I have heard in all my life."

"Perhaps, but I do hope you are aware of a special place in Hell reserved for sinners like you, Earl Phantomhive." Father Gloyn answered firmly.

"Ciel is not evil, Father Gloyn." Clarence said putting a hand on his companion's shoulder as a show of support. The old man looked surprised by this statement.

"Well, of course he's not evil, Clarence! He's just a boy, like you. I never said he was evil, merely that he was a sinner and destined for eternal damnation. Murder is a mortal sin."

"Then how do you explain the Crusades or the Hundred Years War? Surely all those good Christian soldiers were not sinning when they killed their enemies." Ciel countered curtly. He was growing tired of holding his tongue when these peasants attacked his character. He could tolerate Harry and the widow being so flippant given their tragic past and circumstances, but not another belligerent man of the cloth. Father Gloyn let out a sigh that said he was also tired of confrontation.

"There is a difference between killing in self-defence or the defence of another and murder. But, I do not wish to argue with you, Earl Phantomhive. I daresay you are looking for something in the register. What might it be?"

"The marriage between Nicholas Brown and Elsie. We were wondering what her family name was."

"Is there a particular reason for this interest?"

"There's a Cornish epitaph on their grave. We were wondering if she was Cornish or not."

"I see. Well," the priest said whilst beginning to turn the book's pages, "I do remember having to ask her to pronounce her name to me so I did not embarrass either of us at the ceremony. It was a most unusual name, definitely not of English origin." He paused before turning to Clarence. "Not that's there's anything wrong with that, Mr. Gwinnel. I am just speaking broadly."

Menhenick was the surname Father Gloyn produced. He was able to confirm Jonathan Brown's mother was of Cornish descent, meaning the epitaph likely belonged to her instead of being meant for her husband. As Ciel tried to contemplate whether such links offered some tangibility to his theory Jonathan Brown might have been the mysterious Englishman who spoke to Bill Thomas that Thursday, the party were interrupted by the arrival of Sebastian. The demon butler's eyes gleamed in the light as he strode through the centre aisle towards the altar.

"Young Master, pardon my intrusion but I have need to speak with you privately." Ciel turned to the priest.

"Father Gloyn, may I borrow your office for a moment please?"

"Certainly…" The old man replied, his eyes fixed on Sebastian as his imposing figure drew level with them. It looked as though the priest was not in awe of the butler's charms, but terrified by his presence. "I never thought…one could…walk into such a place so freely." Father Gloyn murmured still staring at the demon who coolly returned his gaze. The old man shifted to one side and gestured for them to enter the office.

"Clarence will hear this news too, Sebastian." Ciel instructed his servant whose eyes left the priest and fell on the Cornish youth. He smiled at the blond boy.

"Very good, Sir. Shall we?"

Once behind closed doors, Ciel took a seat behind the priest's desk and gestured for his friend to take a seat beside him. Clarence dragged a chair around the heavy oak desk and sat close enough for their thighs to touch. He seemed scared of Sebastian for the first time and the older boy could not understand why. He patted Clarence on the thigh amicably before turning to the demon who stood formally on the opposite side of the desk.

"Speak." Ciel commanded.

"I have investigated the islands near the sandbar as you requested, Master. My search has yielded an interesting find on a heavily forested island to the west. Just inside the tree line separating the forest from the beach, I found a rowboat hidden beneath branches. I then located and followed signs of human activity through the forestry to a clearing containing ancient ruins, likely Celtic by their design. There were freshly dug holes at the base of all the ruin sites, as well as the body of a man matching the description of the Englishman from the public house given by Mr. Brayton when I asked this morning."

"And what have you concluded from these finds?"

"That our friend was digging for treasure when he was struck down by an unknown force or illness that resulted in his death. The body is at least three days old judging by the decomposition."

"Anything to identify him?"

"There was a tattoo on his left shoulder of a crucifix that bore the name Menhenick across its length. It would appear to be a commemoration of some kind, perhaps a memorial to a deceased relative."

"It sounds like it could be Jimmy Brown." Clarence said with a furrowed brow. "But there's no way of telling without someone who knew him still being alive. Both his best friend and his mum are dead."

"I also found this on his person." Sebastian said producing a small silver pocket watch from his frock coat that echoed his own timepiece. "There is an inscription inside the case that reads: to Colin, remember our time together may not be endless, but my love for you always will be. Eileen."

"Likely stolen from Johnathan Daughtry's body following the murder." Ciel declared getting to his feet, "it seems just the keepsake a mother might give her son to remember his father. We need to go see this body for ourselves. Come on Clarence, let's go." Ciel began to approach the door when he became aware his companion had yet to stand up. He turned to the blond boy and frowned. "Clarence what's the matter?" His friend's eyes were fixed on Sebastian's shoes.

"If he found the man already dead, why is there fresh blood on his shoes?"

Ciel examined his butler's normally pristine shoes and indeed found them to be covered in blood. He frowned at this incongruity. "Well, Sebastian?" He demanded haughtily. The demon bowed low.

"There were…other complications, Sir. Please follow me outside and I will show you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Short chapter to be followed by a lengthier instalment as we run in for the finish. Roughly two more chapters to go before I close this story arc. Hope you enjoy this. It was surprisingly difficult to write.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, At Leisure 10**

"I trust you can explain this sight before us?" Ciel said as the trio stood around the bloodied corpse of a man hidden in the wilderness behind the churchyard wall. Judging from the hole in the man's head, it appeared the demon had brained him with his foot.

"This is the body I found on the island, Master."

"I thought you said there were no visible causes of death."

"There were not, Sir. As I said, he had been dead for three days judging from putrefaction of the tissues." Sebastian said calmly. Ciel rolled his eyes.

"Then explain the large hole in this man's skull to me before I get annoyed."

"I am afraid I am the cause of such a brutal wound, Master. I had no choice when he rose up and attacked me."

Ciel snapped his head from the corpse to Sebastian in bewilderment. "What on earth do you mean 'rose up'?"

"Exactly that. I was examining the surrounding area for a cause of death when the corpse got to its feet and began to assault me…with its teeth." The demon answered with a serene smile. Ciel frowned at this complete mockery of natural order.

"Are you quite certain he was dead before this 'resurrection'?"

"Yes, most certain. Putrefaction only occurs after the body has been decomposing in an open environment for thirty-six hours. This coupled with his blistered skin and bloating in the face and abdomen all state unequivocally that the man was dead when he attacked me." Sebastian explained, gesturing to the blisters and areas of bloating as he spoke. Ciel turned to Clarence who seemed transfixed by the corpse lying prone on the ground.

"What do you think Clarence?" The older boy asked his companion. The Cornish youth frowned.

"If he's been dead for so long, how come the blood on your shoes is fresh, Sebastian? Surely it'd be as disgusting as the rest of him after three days." The blond said looking from the body to the butler who raised his eyebrows accordingly.

"That was my question Sunshine Incarnate. It is incongruous that this man's head would contain fresh blood after three days out in the sun and yet it does. Tell me, do you believe in the supernatural?" The demon replied taking a single step towards the younger boy.

"I didn't used to. I do now though." Clarence offered with a shrug.

"And what made you change your mind on the matter?" Sebastian said now only six inches away from the blond. Clarence shrugged again.

"You coming here. I know you're not human. Nobody can row out to the islands and back within an hour. Not if they went ashore and looked around as well." The younger boy said. Sebastian leaned in slowly. Ciel felt his stomach turn as the demon gifted Clarence an unreadable smile in posing his next question.

"How do you know I'm not lying about going to the islands?"

"Because demons can't lie. It's a rule." Clarence said. He still did not shake even when the butler's nose was almost pressed against his own. Ciel saw Sebastian's eyes begin to glow and knew he was only moments away from silencing a threat to their continued anonymity.

"Very good, Clarence. Most commendable." The demon said with a slow nodding of his head. For the longest time no-one said a word or moved an inch. Just as Ciel opened his mouth to order Sebastian to leave Clarence alone, the butler's glowing eyes dimmed to nothing and he carefully reared back up to his full height. "You are…very bright. Very bright, indeed. In any case, I believe occult magic to be behind this man's short return to the land of the living. Whatever this fabled Cornish treasure is, it is most definitely cursed." The demon speculated, as if Clarence knowing his secret was not of any concern.

"Could this curse have killed him as well?" Ciel asked after observing Clarence in silence for a moment. The Cornish boy seemed confused.

"Possibly. It is possible he may have even unearthed the treasure or touched it before his death. Either that, or the treasure has guardians of some description. However, I did not see any evidence of other inhabitants on the island except this man." Sebastian said crouching down at the side of the body. He produced a cloth from inside his frock coat and ran it across his shoes once. Once the cloth was removed, both shoes were immaculate without a trace of any foreign substance, let alone blood.

"Hmm. Wait here. I need to speak with Clarence in private."

Ciel walked his companion from the undergrowth to a secluded spot out of even the demon's earshot. Clarence still appeared confused, an expression the older boy found he did not like seeing on the Cornish youth's face. "How long have you known of Sebastian's true nature?" Ciel inquired. Clarence shrugged.

"I never thought it was true until just now. I kind of hoped I was just a bit loopy when Sebastian seemed too perfect to be one of us, like I was imagining things." The younger boy shook his head, "but I wasn't. He doesn't sweat. He doesn't get tired. He can see things people don't. And I mean when you can put your foot through a man's skull and shrug it off, that's just not a human being is it? I guess I should've known from all the newspaper articles." Ciel felt his jaw tighten.

"What about them?"

"You're a really powerful person, Ciel, but you're still only thirteen. From some of the threats you've faced down and defeated, you should've been planted six-feet under at least a dozen times. That you're still breathing and in good health is as good a clue as any you've got more than luck on your side." Clarence said with a melancholic smile his companion could not help feeling threatened by.

"And now what? Because I side with the devil instead of the angels, do you intend to run me out of town?" The older boy said challengingly. The Cornish youth rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Sebastian could've killed me just now."

"Yes, he could have. I thought he would for a moment."

"I think he did too. But he stopped. I think he knew what you know deep down." Clarence said, his sad smile turning into a sheepish grin that gave Ciel hope of salvaging the situation.

"What's that?" The older boy asked.

"I'm not a threat to you. He only kills when he is required to, doesn't he? If your life is in danger, he'll act automatically to save you. Since I'm not threatening your life, he has no reason to hurt me." The blond explained. He sounded somewhat crestfallen by his own analogy of his worth, as if he were an ant discovering it was just one of countless thousands in a colony. Ciel smiled and put a hand on his companion's shoulder.

"He likes you as well, you know. He's not just a mindless automaton: He can grow attached to people, just like anybody else. He likes the rest of my servants too. He also has a horrid fondness for cats despite my allergies."

Clarence grinned. "Cats?"

"Yes. He's very…peculiar for a demon…of any description." Ciel said taking his hand back. Clarence seemed much more relaxed after this unusual fact and the older boy was glad.

"Does he like you?" The Cornish youth asked. Ciel frowned.

"He serves me. I doubt he likes me for anything but that which I have promised him."

"I don't think that's true. The way he looks at you is different from the way he looks at anybody else." Clarence informed him. Ciel had to sneer at that.

"Like he wants to eat me?" The older boy said.

"Like you're the important thing in the world to him." The blond said with a sincerity Ciel tried not to balk at. Clearly Clarence did not understand how a demon worked. He scoffed.

"Hardly. I'm just a means to an end for him, a sideshow to occupy him for the time being."

"I still think he loves you. Even if he doesn't, at least he'll never leave you. It must be nice to have someone always there for you. Someone who's always on your side." Clarence offered wistfully. Ciel, seeing that any tension in their dialogue had abated, ventured to put an arm around the younger boy's shoulder. It was a gesture he had seen Baldroy do to Finny and Mey-Rin on several occasions when their spirits needed lifting. He was hoping for a similar effect on Clarence.

"The same could be said of you and this village. I have yet to meet anyone who did not love the mere sight of you. You are very fortunate." Ciel assured him. His companion conceded the point with a nod.

"Yeah, but they're all old. No kids want to play with me…except you of course."

"Perhaps if we solve this mystery, you'll find new levels of popularity amongst your peers." The older boy suggested, squeezing the blonde's shoulder genially. He was praying such behaviour was correct for the situation and not inappropriate. Clarence's response seemed to indicate it was just what he needed.

"That would be nice."

The pair returned to the undergrowth where they found Sebastian examining the body. When they drew level with the butler's hunched form, they saw what specifically had caught his eye. The demon held up one of the corpse's hands palm-up. On the hand were clear burn marks as if they had been holding onto something hot or toxic for too long. When Sebastian silently contrasted this hand against the other, the disparity was clear to see. The other hand was entirely unmarked. "He touched something with his left hand. From the appearance of the wound, I would say it was shortly before death." The demon commented. Ciel frowned.

"Why didn't you notice this on your initial examination of the body?"

"Apologies, Young Master, but the discolouration was not so pronounced at my first examination."

"But he'd been dead for three days. Surely any injury would have appeared by that time."

"Unless it wasn't an ordinary wound." Clarence pointed out to earn a nod of approval from the butler.

"Mr. Gwinnel is correct. I imagine this mark not only to be a likely cause of death, but also some sort of trigger for the resurrection of the corpse."

"Are you saying you can't identify it as something you've come across before?" Ciel said, slightly unbelieving a demon as old as time itself had no knowledge of this occult practice. Sebastian scrutinised the mark further.

"The purple hue to the wound and its general crescent shape is reminiscent of some ancient Celtic tribes who practiced black magic, but is definitely uncommon in this part of the country."

"Could it be a hex?" Clarence suggested. Sebastian shook his head.

"It is far more powerful than a hex, Clarence. With such power to raise the dead, one would require decades of practice and experience, perhaps even longer than the average human lifespan will permit for true mastery." The demon said getting to his feet. Ciel sighed lethargically.

"What on earth could this treasure be that left us with a mystery that touches on the occult, greed and a grizzly end to a lifelong friendship that ends in the death of both parties within days of one another?"

"I believe we may only discover that by returning to that island. Although I saw no evidence of life, the island was covered in dense undergrowth and trees. I left with the body before I could make a full appreciation of the ground. It was most important you realise the nature of our mystery." Sebastian said with a gravitas that did not suit his casual nature. Ciel was taken aback by his tone. He collected himself.

"Why is that?"

"We do not know what this man touched to end up in the manner you see him now. It could be the fabled treasure he sought out or it might be something as innocent as a stone or a tree or the surface of a puddle. It is possible you may die if we venture to this island. And if it is a stone that is the culprit for this man's untimely death, I might not be able to save you in time."

"Well, when you consider that we initially wished to solve a murder and we have to a certain degree, there is little need to pursue this matter further. Nothing can be lost by ignoring this treasure in favour of enjoying the rest of our holiday." Ciel mused. He knew he had no stake in this mystery. He knew that for sensible investigators who valued both their lives and reputations that there was nothing else to be gained here. It would be easy to walk away and move on to other challenges. But he already knew he was not a sensible investigator in the slightest, nor did he shy away from a challenge he was confident of beating into submission. "I'd like to leave early tomorrow morning. There is no point rushing this. Bury that body somewhere discreet and meet me back at the cottage within the hour."

"Yes, My Lord."

Ciel turned to Clarence. "You don't have to come you if you don't want to." The older boy assured his friend. The Cornish youth rolled his eyes.

"I didn't have to do a lot of things if I didn't want to, Ciel. I want to do this though."

"I can't promise I'll be able to protect you." Ciel said honestly. Clarence shrugged.

"I don't want you to promise that. Just let me see this mystery to the end. That's all I want." Ciel admired the blond boy's bravery. He had seldom come across any child – with the notable exception of his fiancée - who went into such a dangerous situation with their eyes open to the danger. He inclined his head.

"Very well then. We'll meet at the dock tomorrow morning, 6 o'clock. "

"Just get Sebastian to pack us a lunch and I'll follow you anywhere."

"I thought as much."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Perhaps two more chapters to the finish. The trio reach the island and are shocked by what awaits them. Enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, At Leisure 11**

Ciel found himself still awake hours after being put to bed. His dinner had been fine, his bath unremarkable and conversation as scarce as he preferred it to be. The servants continued to enjoy their holiday in blissful ignorance of the mysteries that consumed their master and all his time. He preferred it that way too. He liked the distance between himself and them, professional without being curt. The boy knew he was still awake because of Clarence and the unknown darkness he intended to take the Cornish youth into. Ciel was awake because he knew his friend could die by following him onward, another good soul swallowed whole by his black heart and thirst for combat. Normally, he would sleep soundly knowing such a possibility shadowed his every move. There were always casualties in war, sacrifices to appease angry gods, and Ciel could shoulder their losses if it meant progress. But this mystery offered no chance of progression, no whisper of narrowing his pursuit of vengeance. This was an ego trip, simple but never pure. Ciel left his bed and then the room.

He sat in the living room, mired in darkness, and considered his soul. The arguments were old and the ground well-trodden by countless hours of brooding. But a new thought struck him, something as horrific as it was fresh. What if Sebastian thought his soul was still too flavourless for his palate? What if he wanted more flames for the fire? What if Clarence's inescapable descent into this mystery had been because the youth was the demon's choice for a stoker? What if every victim and villain of his quest for vengeance had been the demon's designs for more flavour, more…essence for his long-awaited meal? What if tomorrow Clarence died because the pain of such a loss would gift his tortured soul the ultimate seasoning for the final consumption? If it was, the demon would smile. Even if this was mere paranoia and Clarence died out of accidental clumsiness rather than cold calculation, Sebastian would still smile just the same. Ciel stood and gazed through the slight gap in the curtains to the cliffs outside. Sebastian stood on the edge.

The demon had his back turned to the window and appeared to be regarding the ocean. Ciel put on his slippers and joined his butler by the edge minutes later. Sebastian did not look at him in opening a dialogue.

"May I be of assistance, Young Master?"

"What are you looking at?"

"The island you wish to make your hunting ground. It would be prudent for you to sleep now if you intend to conquer the unknown later."

"If you had done your job correctly, I would not be here now. Your incompetence is unbelievable." Ciel offered with a sneer. The demon smiled.

"I fear I have done my job correctly, Master. I would speculate that the source of your restlessness is not my doing but your own. It seems your feelings for Clarence are the problem. There is still time to turn him back to his life of mediocrity, if you so wish."

"And ruin your chance to season my soul with more innocent blood? Surely you would prefer me to take him by the hand and force him along if necessary, kicking and screaming if it meant my heart got blacker." Ciel said bitterly. His butler turned his head. Red eyes glowed in the dim light.

"You never tire of your rhetoric, do you, Master? Blackening your heart did not form part of our original agreement. I am here only to serve your needs and fulfil your desires until you have gained your revenge. I have no interest in 'tenderising' your soul. The aesthetic would be wrong." The boy hated Sebastian's overt sincerity. He wanted it to be true. If it were true, then the burgeoning darkness within was not entirely his fault but the demon's aesthetic. But apparently Sebastian's aesthetic differed from any other malevolent creature if Ciel understood his remark. The boy sighed lethargically.

"So if I forbid Clarence from joining us tomorrow…"

"You will crush his dreams, but he will likely survive to live a long and dry existence in this place. Your soul will be in pain no matter whether the boy lives or dies. You either deny him his dreams or risk his life for the chance you will not have to."

"Do you enjoy seeing me in distress, Sebastian? Does it whet your appetite?" Ciel had not noticed the demon shift his body until Sebastian stood behind him. The boy was startled when strong arms crossed over his chest and gently pulled him flush.

"You are overly tired by recent events. It has made you paranoid and suspicious, excellent qualities if one is a criminal or a lunatic, but not a child of your rarefied breeding. I possess no motive or desire beyond consumption of your soul. I do not engage in seasoning it by design but fate and circumstance. Even sugar can be too sweet if one eats too much. And I wish you to know your lighter moments in life offer as much texture and nuance to your soul's flavour as the deepest depths of your despair and anguish." Ciel felt oddly placated as a hand reached up and offered a chaste stroke across his scalp. "Anger and pain are only one side of an equation that must be balanced. A true gourmet meal is both sweet and sour." Sebastian added before venturing to rake a hand across his scalp yet again.

"Why do I like this?" Ciel asked, despising how lost and fragile he felt in this demon's embrace. It felt safe. Why did it feel so safe?

"Because you are tired, Master. When you meet fatigue of this kind, you always revert to a child. Tomorrow you will feel powerful again." The butler informed him without relinquishing his hold. For this brief moment, Ciel found he did not mind the impertinence. He looked out on the sea and the shadow marauding in the distance.

"And what about Clarence? What do I do about him?" He asked leaning back into the hollow of Sebastian's body. The demon was pragmatic.

"You have always enjoyed games of chance as much as those of skill. Take the risk. If you want it badly enough, you will win."

Ciel slept better after returning to bed. When he awoke to new daylight, the boy was unsure whether his encounter with Sebastian was a dream or not. Upon the butler's arrival with the tea trolley, he asked for confirmation.

"What on earth were you playing at last night? You cannot touch me like that. Not only was it improper for a butler it was also unnecessary." Ciel snapped as the demon poured his first cup of the morning. Sebastian passed him the cup in silence. The boy took it in the same manner but glared at his servant just the same. "I asked you a question. Answer it."

"Sometimes I grow tired of you crucifying yourself, Young Master. Sometimes, I merely wish you saw your cup was half-full instead of half-empty. My actions were meant as a representation of what you already have instead of what you lack." Sebastian offered serenely. Ciel sneered.

"Are you saying I should be grateful for your company?"

"Not my company, Master."

"Then what?" Ciel said sipping his tea. Earl Grey. Passable.

"My enjoyment of yours. Any other butler with the exception of Tanaka would grow to hate you in a matter of days. They would not just consider you cold, but empty and also immature and malicious. I like you just as you are. My next hundred masters will not hold my interest like you do. Shall we prepare for our journey? We have less than an hour to meet Clarence."

"Have you made us a lunch?"

"Of course."

"Then hurry up and dress me."

They arrived at the dock fifteen minutes early for their rendezvous but already found the Cornish youth waiting for them. The boy was playing with the mooring rope for their rowboat, expertly untying and then re-tying it as if such a task were second nature to him. He caught sight of the pair a few moments later and got up to greet them.

"Morning Sirs!" Clarence offered with a smile and a wave that Ciel could scarcely believe. Even after every gruesome discovery and shocking revelation, the younger boy could still smile with sincerity. The older boy inclined his head in reply.

"Good morning, Clarence. Ready to go?"

"I could barely sleep last night just thinking about it all!" The blond exclaimed, "I can't wait to see what's there!"

"And what we talked about yesterday?" Ciel said, knowing it would bring his friend back to earth. Clarence's smile faded. When he spoke, his voice was melancholic.

"I'm still going, no matter what happens. A good detective always sees a case through to the end, even when it means they might not come back."

"Does your mother know about this trip of ours?" The older boy checked. The Cornish youth shrugged.

"She knows I'm going to an island with my new friends for the day. I didn't tell her the rest. There's enough to worry about as it is."

"Alright. If you're sure, let's go now."

The journey across the ocean was brief, partly due to the clear skies and calm water, but largely due to Sebastian's rowing which somehow managed to be fast whilst also being elegant. Both boys sat at the opposite end to the demon, watching him more than the island rapidly growing larger in front of the bow. Nobody made conversation. Once they struck the sandy shore of the island, Ciel knew the time had arrived to finally bring this mystery to a close.

"Here is where I found the body, Master." Sebastian said after they had traversed through dense woodland and taken a left at a forked path marked by a large basalt stone, stained red by rainwater. It had led them out amongst crumbling stone pillars that formed a circle. They now stood in the centre of that circle staring at a patch of discoloured grass that formed the outline of a man. Ciel surveyed the landscape before taking Clarence's translation of Bill Thomas' riddle and checking their location against its directions.

 _Once ashore the fair isle, walk with purpose to the eastern wood. Do not stop to consider another path._

 _Within the wood is a stone that does not belong in nature. It holds the key to your desires._

 _Take the fork this stone overshadows, bearing left not right and forward not back._

 _Danger is rife and gallantry is tested when travelling this path. Take heart. Riches are not far._

 _Marked by a dead man's skull, you will face a choice that cannot be made for you._

 _The older boy checked the immediate area for evidence of a skull but could not see any such landmark. He turned to Clarence._

"Have you seen a dead man's skull?" He asked his companion who was looking towards what looked like a burial mound just outside the stone circle.

"Nope. But how about we look for whatever Johnny Brown touched before he died? It's got to be close-by. It might give us a steer." The blond suggested whilst beginning to manoeuvre out of the circle and round the opposite side of the mound. Ciel saw Clarence's eyes focus on something on the ground at his feet. The Cornish youth stooped as if he pick something up. A moment later, Sebastian's hand held up Clarence's right.

"I would ask you not to pick up whatever you find here without careful consideration, Clarence." The butler advised the startled boy before releasing his hand.

"I was checking whether it gave off any heat. It looks like it's glowing slightly." Clarence informed Sebastian as Ciel closed in on their find. When he drew level with them, he saw it too. Resting against the side of the mound was a single gold coin roughly the size of a half-penny. Clarence was right: it was glowing. The design on its face was that of a human skull. The older boy frowned. Ciel gazed up from the coin to the wood line from which they had just came. There were three paths cutting into the trees from this angle, all of them fifteen feet apart from one another. Excluding the path they had entered the circle from, they had two paths left and right of it to explore.

"The dead man's skull is the coin. The choice must be those other two paths in the woods."

"But the wood's tiny. There can't be anything in it we couldn't see coming here." Clarence pointed out. Ciel's eyes drifted back to the coin.

"Unless you need a key." Ciel said absently picking it up. It felt hot in his hand but not enough to scald or burn his skin. "I will face a choice that cannot be made for me." The older boy said under his breath, recalling the words of the story. "I choose the left path."

"Why left?" Clarence asked.

"It's…just a feeling I have."

The trio followed the path left and walked through the woods. It had taken them only a matter of minutes to journey from the shore to the ruins, but almost twenty minutes later they were still walking through the woods. They had not moved in any direction but that of a straight line and yet the woods continued to stretch out before them and into the distance. Another fifteen minutes of brisk walking saw them finally breach the treeline and emerge back into the open. Ciel blinked in disbelief at the vast stone citadel before them and its domination of the landscape.

Buildings, roads and stairways flanked an enormous temple that rose out of the ground like a towering leviathan, threatening to blot out the sun itself if one got too close. But even that colossus was nothing compared to what littered the ground and peppered the buildings. Coins like the one in Ciel's hand were strewn everywhere including the rooftops. Golden idols of sea creatures stood alongside the coins along with precious jewels and stones. It was as if treasure had literally rained down from above one day and never been collected.

"What kind of magic is this?" Clarence asked looking at Sebastian for some kind of explanation. The butler smiled genially.

"This is the work of a demon I have not seen for thousands of years."

"What demon might that be?" Ciel said examining the coin in his hand again. It had grown cold in the last few minutes.

"Humans referred to it as Malx."

"Malx?"

"Forgive me, Young Master. Malx is a word from the now dead language of Fedayan spoken by a people long since extinct from avarice and gluttony. It means 'Supreme Evil'. There is something curious about the Fedayan though."

"What might that be?"

"They died out millennia ago in what is now Egypt. I was not aware they had ever colonised part of Europe. However, that is not the most curious aspect of this situation."

"Tell me before I get annoyed, Sebastian."

"This citadel was abandoned only decades ago."

Before Ciel could process what the implications of this revelation were, he became aware of a figure clad in a white hooded robe shambling towards them from the main thoroughfare. The figure's face was obscured by shadow, but the older boy could clearly see them to be in possession of a long brown beard that reached their navel and a pair of bony white hands that were covered in burns like those on Johnny Brown's hand. Ciel smirked.

"Perhaps not abandoned at all, Sebastian. Go investigate before it gets too close."

"Yes, My Lord." The two boys watched the demon sprint out and seize the figure in an instant. But a moment later, Sebastian stood alone at the spot where the figure had been. Then the figure flashed back into existence on the other side of the butler and almost two hundred meters closer than before. Ciel moved between Clarence and the figure as Sebastian sped towards it once more. The figure flashed out of existence as soon as the demon drew level. Instead of stopping, Sebastian continued forward and collected the two youths, each under one arm, and ran back to the woods.

"What the hell is that thing?" Ciel whispered as they peered around a tree back to the citadel. The figure was not following them. It was ambling back down the thoroughfare.

"The ghost of a former high priest." Sebastian answered looking for himself.

"What would've happened if it had touched us?" Clarence asked fretfully. Sebastian did not sugar-coat it.

"It would have tried to take your hand and administered the same burn pattern as that on the body. They are servants of the Malx. They guard the citadel's riches. I imagine contact with one of them is what killed Jonathan Brown."

"And caused his resurrection?" Ciel inquired.

"It is a likely assumption, Sir. It is strange though."

"What is?"

"The Malx was destroyed just before this civilisation went extinct. High priests performed an expulsion ritual and the demon ceased to be. I cannot understand how it could have endured."

"I thought you said the priests served the Malx."

"No, I did not say that. I said their ghosts serve the Malx. It has dominion over all dead things, including the souls of the departed. It is fed by greed and suffering." The butler explained. Ciel smirked.

"You two have a lot in common then. So if it is fed by greed and suffering, it should've starved to death a long time ago. There's no-one here for it to feed off."

"Exactly so. And if the Malx ceases to be, so does its servants. Since they are obviously still here, it must be too."

"So how do we get past them?"

"Perhaps a trade might be in order." Sebastian offered looking to the coin in his master's hand.

They ventured forward from the woods again. Again the figure appeared and began to approach. This time they awaited its arrival. When it drew level with them, it stopped. A moment later it extended a hand palm-up. Ciel cautiously deposited the coin in its centre. The figure closed fingers around it and gestured for the boy to follow him. The party began to walk in tandem only for the figure to thrust a hand up to Sebastian's face.

"Only one." A clotted and raspy voice said from beneath the hood. Clarence crouched to pick up one of the discarded coins only for Sebastian to again impede his progress.

"They are not the same." The demon instructed the Cornish youth. "We will wait for you here, Master." Ciel nodded.

"Keep Clarence safe. That's an order."

"Yes, My Lord."

The older boy walked at the side of the ghost as they ventured further into the citadel. A moment later, they were gone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: The big confrontation with the Malx. Hopefully it is of a good standard for your enjoyment. If it is not, please tell me otherwise. There is one more chapter after this and then this story arc will also find completion. Please read first and foremost, but also review. If you've come along this far and not aired your opinions on the story, I'd like to hear what you have to say, even if it only amounts to a few words. I don't know if you do not say.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, At Leisure 12**

Sebastian regarded the spot his master had vanished from with little interest. The demon already knew that Ciel had not ventured to another plain of reality but had rather been teleported elsewhere inside the citadel. If the boy called his name, Sebastian knew he would hear it. His contractual obligations made it impossible for his master to ever be truly out of reach. If he closed his eyes, the demon could feel the presence of the boy's soul as the sound of a beating heart. He smiled at the ease with which it could heard in this empty acropolis, so loud to his ears that it almost seemed to echo. His thoughts were interrupted by an incessant tugging on his coat sleeve.

He looked down to see the Cornish boy, the blond one with the attractive smile, gazing up at him. There was little refinement in this human, but Sebastian liked him for his rustic and friendly nature. His intelligence and intuition were mere bonuses for one born with so few opportunities. The demon smiled genially.

"Yes Clarence?"

"Is Ciel going to be okay? It's been twenty minutes already."

"He will be fine."

"How do you know?"

"Because if the Malx tries to feed off his greed, it will starve."

"Why?"

"Owing to his great wealth, status and prestige, my young master has no need for treasure or gold nor is he tempted by such trifling desires. Avarice and greed are not part of his character." Sebastian stated confidently only for his companion to appear less than assured.

"But isn't his thirst for knowledge greedy? He didn't need to come here or investigate the murders to begin with, but he wanted to know the truth behind the mystery. Isn't that a kind of greed? Couldn't the Malx feed off that?" The demon could admit to being impressed with this child being able to think beyond the limitations of tangible greed such as money or treasure to something altogether more existential. He inclined his head in appreciation.

"A very astute observation, Sunshine Incarnate. However, I would imagine it has become accustomed to a certain type of meal, one that covets gold rather than wisdom, over the millennia. My master will be fine."

"If you're sure." Clarence replied with lingering traces of doubt in his voice. Silence resumed only for the boy to break it again minutes later. "Why didn't you kill me yesterday?"

"I only kill if I am required to or my master commands me to do so. Killing you would have served no purpose." The demon answered whilst listening for the steady beat of his next meal again. He did not even hesitate to offer such a straightforward response. However he found Clarence's next query was a little harder to readily articulate.

"So you didn't let me live because you like me?"

Sebastian turned from the citadel to the green-eyed boy looking at him in something he understood to be hope. The demon could see his companion wanted to be liked. He was aware children of his age were always desperate to be accepted by adults, praised for their attributes or efforts and generally to feel as if they mattered to their communities. His master was of course the exception to this social norm, but had displayed more child-like tendencies in the past week than the last two years. He sighed and settled a hand on the boy's head, patting it softly a few times as he was fond of doing to his feline friends.

"You are…very likeable. If you were a cat, I would not hesitate in taking you home." Sebastian offered with a polite smile. Clarence gifted him a smile in return.

"I'm going to take that as proof you like me too much to kill me…without a good reason."

"Very gracious of you. If the master does not return in the next five minutes, we shall pursue him."

"Good."

Ciel had followed the ghostly priest seemingly across the entire city before their arrival at the temple. As they ascended the stairs to the upper chambers, the boy was aware of the temperature changing. Instead of growing colder however, the air grew warmer and continued until any further heat would begin to upset the ambience and make it uncomfortable. As it was, it was merely pleasant. Ciel found himself wondering whether the Malx did this deliberately to make the situation more agreeable to its victims, of which the boy was sure were hundreds if not thousands.

Once they had passed through the entrance of the temple, Ciel found himself in awe of its lavish interior. Gold. The entirety of the temple's interior was made of solid gold, including an extravagantly carved throne that appeared a conglomeration of thousands of individual human faces. Each set of eyes were some precious stone or other, making for an eye-watering sight no matter where one looked. Despite all this opulence, there was no figure to occupy the throne or sign of any such person within the whole of the temple. When Ciel turned to ask his guide what happened next, the boy found the ghost had vanished out of existence, leaving him alone.

" _Welcome Traveller."_ A voice echoed around the room. _"You have ventured far and risked much to stand here. Tell me now: what do you wish for a prize?"_

"Face me for a start. Do not cloak yourself in shadow. I am above such parlour tricks." Ciel said without hesitation. There was a short silence.

" _Do you think that wise? You may regret seeing my personage, enough to run screaming from this place and to your death."_

"Don't insult me with such idiotic rhetoric. You will show yourself or I shall leave your magician's theatre." The boy sneered hoping the slight panic he was feeling was not evident in his eyes or voice. Another pause came.

" _Very well."_ The voice said before falling mute. Ciel waited almost two minutes before he heard the sound of footsteps against the floor. A moment later, the boy watched a black figure stroll from one side of the throne and then seat themselves. Aside from a pair of gold-coloured eyes, Ciel could not make out any other feature or even an article of clothing in the dark. "Here I am." The voice said with a chuckle. "You are demanding, aren't you?"

"You're the Malx?"

"It has been many millennia since any mortal knew me by name. Normally my intentions are the last thing travellers wish to know. They only interest themselves in my riches. They thirst for nothing but wealth and power and prestige. I sense perhaps you are different, Ciel Phantomhive."

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh, it is not just your name I know of. Now you are here, I know everything about you. In fact, I know enough to become you." The creature said before the darkness of its body yielded to a definite outline and form. A moment later, Ciel found himself staring at an exact replica of himself seated on the throne, down to the very clothes he stood in. The only difference was the demon's left eye. Instead of being blue as the boy's own eyes were, it was a seamless surface of gold as if an orb of the precious metal had been substituted for the eyeball itself. Ciel was unimpressed with the trick.

"Is this how you lure your victims into death or servitude? You imitate them and then find their greed in order to feed on it? Let me guess: you tempt them with the very thing they wish for most, dangle it in front of them like a mule and a carrot and then watch them willingly walk over the cliff." The Malx eye widened in what could pass for pleasant surprise. The boy did not like it at all, especially since the gesture was being shown on his face.

"Almost exactly right. Most of your kind are simple, base creatures with no desires beyond dreams of wealth. All it takes for some is a chest of gold coins to prepare them for my meal. Others perhaps favour emotional ties to loved ones. I assume their form and take them that way. I already know neither method will sway you into my embrace. Your wealth is staggering, as is how brutally alone in this world you are. There is your fiancée of course, but since you have already observed my deception, her form will not fool you. Your servants too are inconsequential…except perhaps the demon your Faustian contract is with. But your reaction to him is hate, not desire of any sort." The Malx said before stroking its chin in thought. Ciel now heard his own voice replying to him, as if talking to himself in the mirror. The demon was tightening its hold over him and the boy knew it was only a matter of time before it uncovered a weakness it could exploit. "If you call him, he will come, won't he?" The Malx said wistfully.

"What of it?"

"Why don't you call his name and have him rescue you from your fate?"

"Is that an admission you plan to kill me?"

"I do not need to feed again for several decades. I just like to dine more frequently. Treasure hunters and adventurers have been seeking my riches since the first iteration of my little riddle reached this continent. This century alone I have devoured twenty-seven people." The Malx answered with a devilish grin whilst leaning forward. "Are you certain you will not call your tame dog for aid?" Ciel could not help but feel his panic recede as the demon pressed him on Sebastian. It was odd. The boy drew closer to the throne, to his replica and leaned in. He wanted to tempt the demon into responding.

"I find it curious if you are as powerful as you claim that you require both servants and your victims' connivance in their own demises to achieve your goals. It makes me wonder if you are weaker than you seem. What affect will Sebastian's presence have on you? Will it make you stronger? Can you feed off him?" The Malx reacted to this suggestion by getting to its feet and meeting Ciel toe-to-toe.

"I have survived my own demise at the hands of your kind. Consider what your demon told you, that this civilisation around you crumbled into extinction thousands of years ago, its people nothing but dust in the wind and its very existence known only by a select few. Consider all that and remember that I am still here. If I was weak, it was centuries before your birth and ended shortly after. Your demon will not be able to prevent you from succumbing to me."

"If you really know everything I do, then you know Sebastian is incapable of failure. Tell me, have you met him before? I'm almost certain he has met you before, given how much he knows about you."

"What does that matter?"

"If he has encountered you before, it means he can defeat you."

"If he has a Faustian contract with you, that means I can use his greed to kill you both…and little Clarence." The Malx sneered in a haunting imitation of Ciel's arrogant manner. The boy opened his mouth to retort only to hear a rush of footsteps clattering up the steps outside. They were too fast to be made by human feet. Both turned to the entryway in expectation. "Excellent. Now let us see if your lapdog can tell us apart." Ciel was taken aback when seeing his adversary's distinctive eye had transformed into his, but not scared.

"Do you really think he will not know which one of us has a soul? He has lusted after mine too long to make a mistake." The boy said only for his doppelganger to smirk.

"It's not only your appearance and memories I can fabricate. All your demon must do is pick incorrectly and I shall have a banquet to feast on."

"If he has longer than five minutes he will end you."

"Then he shall not have it."

Sebastian arrived at the entryway of the great temple less than three minutes after leaving their rendezvous point. He set Clarence down and regarded the two young masters stood before him wearing identical expressions of irritation.

"What bloody kept you so long?" The pair said in unison. The demon butler let his eyes drift from one to the other, looking for cracks in the illusion. Finding none, he bowed in apology.

"Please excuse my tardiness, Master. I was detained by the Malx servants."

"Why did you bring Clarence with you?" The two Ciels again said in unison, "This is too dangerous to risk his life." Their harmony with one another was absolute. One was not following the lead of the other: they were perfectly synchronised. Sebastian turned to Clarence.

"Which one is real, Clarence?"

The blond youth looked at both of them in turn. His green eyes suggested he had not reached a verdict, something the demon had expected. The choice was unusually difficult based solely on appearance. "Neither." Clarence said with such suddenness as to make his companion frown.

"Neither? Surely one of them is my master?"

"Can't you hear his soul calling to you? You said you could and that's how we got here. Is it silent now?"

The demon closed his eyes and listened for the tell-tale heartbeat of the boy's immortal soul. He heard nothing, not even a murmur of a beat. Red eyes regarded the two boys in something that almost passed for bewilderment. He had no guidance on which was which. He looked at Clarence. "How did you know I would not hear it calling?"

"Because the Malx obviously wants you to pick fairly. If you could hear his soul, that'd be too easy a test, almost like cheating."

"The demon said this citadel will be obliterated in less than three minutes." The Ciels said to interrupt them, "You and the Malx would survive being demons, but Clarence and I will perish in the destruction. It said you have that long to decide and to rescue me. So bloody hurry up!" Sebastian's startled expression gave way to his usual serene smile. Of course. The master had no greed for this beast to feed on. It was his greed for the boy's soul that the Malx was counting on. Decades of starvation for the chance to devour this one soul meant his coveting of Ciel's life-force was worth a thousand human sacrifices. The Malx could gorge on such greed and desire for centuries. At top speed, Sebastian could get clear of the citadel in ninety seconds. It meant he had barely a minute to decide otherwise there would not be enough time to save his young master and the Cornish boy's lives. Longer than a minute to decide meant Clarence would die as the drag factor of his bodyweight and the master's would be too much to risk carrying them both. The trap was an ingenious one.

"I will only take the victor." Sebastian announced. The two Phantomhives exchanged glances.

"The victor of what?" They inquired. Clarence folded his arms.

"The fight you're about to have. Best hurry up: you've only got a minute." The blond youth answered for his companion who was pleased to see he understood his plan. The master would bleed because he was flesh and blood: the demon was not and therefore could not. Both boys wasted no time in throwing fists at one another before wrestling to the floor and scrapping like wild animals. Sebastian expected as much: Ciel Phantomhive was a nobleman yes, but he was also a fighter, someone who would do anything necessary to endure and to survive. After twenty seconds of frenzied melee attacks on one another, the demon saw the first drops of blood spatter the ground, followed swiftly by more. The boy being mounted by the other, the one being subjected to a rainstorm of blows to his face, was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, an old wound opening up in force. Sebastian observed the other boy and saw blood begin to drip from his cheek too, the _same_ cheek. _They both_ _bleed_ – the butler thought – _clever, but only one will_ _use his teeth as a weapon. Only my master will sacrifice dignity for victory._

The boys paused in their quest to maim the other when the ground rumbled violently beneath them followed by an almighty crash of something large and heavy smashing stone. Clarence looked out the entryway to see the citadel's huge stone edifices crumbling to the ground, raining gold coins and rubble everywhere he looked. Sebastian ignored the spectacle in favour of the boys before him. They were both breathless and bloodied and another ten seconds of time had passed since they stopped hitting one another. That left only half-a-minute to decide. Suddenly, the Ciel in the ascendancy was shrieking in agony as his pinned counterpart sank his teeth into the boy's arm. The demon watched as their positions were reversed with a deft thrust of the pinned youth's hips. Sebastian had a strong suspicion which was boy and which was demon after that manoeuvre. Now on top, the formerly pinned Ciel began smashing elbows into the other's mouth, obviously trying feverishly to break their teeth and jaw.

"Sebastian! Help me!" The pinned boy screamed independent of his doppelganger before another elbow crashed into his face with a sickening crunch. Sebastian did nothing. Ten seconds remained to choose. Outside, the world was collapsing with frightening ease. The demon heard the pinned boy shout again. "Please help me!" The youth barely managed to articulate in between blows. Sebastian's eyes widened in pleasure. Please? _Please_? His master would never say please even when faced with his own demise. It was a pathetic act that was beneath his breeding. The demon grabbed hold of the top boy by his shirt collar, bundled Clarence under his other arm and tore off down the steps.

"How do you expect to get out of here?" Ciel yelled from his position tucked under Sebastian's arm. "We only got here in the first place with that coin!"

"We no longer need it. At the precise moment this citadel is destroyed, a rift between our realm and this one will be opened before the Malx can reset the trap. We have five-hundredths of a second to pass through it." The butler explained in a calm, unhurriedly tone of voice even as he leapt a dozen feet in the air to clear a falling tower in their path to the wood line.

"And if we don't make it through?" Clarence asked from the demon's opposite side as debris and coins hit them like a hailstorm. Sebastian smiled.

"Then both of you shall die quite horribly."

Once at the edge of the wood, the demon stopped moving but did not put either boy down. It was time to wait. The citadel continued to crumble behind them, kicking up vast clouds of dust that made both youths cough, but Sebastian's eyes remained fixed on the wood before them. There would be half-a-second to pass the barrier and return to the island. The ground groaned beneath his feet as the road into the citadel itself fell into ruin. Still he waited patiently. The Malx would not rush him into an error, not now. Seconds remained and then…

He saw the briefest flicker and jumped. The entire party were consumed by a flash of white light but emerged back on the shoreline near their rowboat, unscathed. The demon smiled as he heard the steady rhythm of his master's soul beating away in direct contrast to the frantic pace of the boy's heart. He set both youths down on the sand and awaited further orders.

Ciel touched his cheek, smearing the blood down its length before glaring at Sebastian.

"Fight? Your solution was to make us fight? What the hell did that tell you that questions couldn't?" The boy snapped as his butler produced a clean white cloth from his frockcoat and proceeded to press it against the wound.

"The Malx could read your mind." Clarence said drawing up alongside his companion, "Questions would have been pointless. Getting you to fight let him see which one of you was real."

"How?"

"Only you'd do anything to win. The Malx probably saw you were a nobleman and assumed you'd fight fair." The blond suggested. Ciel was of a different opinion, having seen the creature's malevolent nature first-hand.

"It claimed it could read my mind. Why did it not know I would bite it at that moment?"

"Did you know you were going to bite it?" The Cornish boy inquired.

Ciel opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative, but fell short of verbally saying so. The truth was that biting the creature was not pre-planned: it was instinct. Like burying elbows in its face, reverting to the savagery of his ancestors, it was all instinct and the will to survive. There was no thought for the demon to pre-empt, just an animal's desperate efforts to win its life. Ciel understood now. It was not intelligence Sebastian was counting on to separate them, but the true nature of the human being…to survive at all costs. Privately, the boy thought it brilliant.

"No." The older boy finally said as the butler remarked he had finished suturing. Ciel frowned at this: he had not felt a thing, apparently lost in his own thoughts as the demon closed his persistent wound. He gazed up at his butler in open admiration. For all Sebastian's talk of being wholly consumed with eating his soul, the demon knew him well enough to not need its presence to guess correctly. He inclined his head in silent gratitude at the butler. Sebastian returned it in the same mute manner. The older boy turned his attentions to Clarence. "You and he make a formidable pair. At times, it seemed as if you knew everything he intended to say and do. It was most impressive."

"I was impressive? You bit a demon on the arm: you're braver than anybody I've ever seen." The blond countered with a modesty Ciel was beginning to grow tired of. He rolled his eyes.

"That was not bravery: that was desperation. You coming with me in all this madness, standing by my side while the world fell down around us, that was true bravery." Ciel offered sincerely whilst putting a bloody hand on the younger boy's shoulder, "And I am honoured to be your friend, Clemo Gwinnel, very honoured." Clarence blushed slightly but managed a nod and bashful smile that spoke volumes for his feelings on the matter. Ciel took his hand away and sighed lethargically. "But what did we achieve other than to escape with our lives?"

"We know that this place and its treasure is a trap." Clarence pointed out. "We know Jimmy Brown's greed was powerful enough to make him kill Johnny and suffer a fate worse than death at the hands of the Malx. We know a lot, Ciel. Enough to make sure that thing actually starves to death this time instead of living forever on other people's sins." Ciel could concede to his friend's very comprehensive explanation of their achievements in this mystery. Clarence had a way of lighting the dark that only the brightest of souls could manage. Still, his solution was ambiguous.

"Will this be achieved by telling them the truth or merely claiming to have already found the treasure?"

"Have you got a chest of gold coins lying around anywhere in your cottage?" The Cornish boy asked with a sheepish smile that said he was not hopeful of such a simple fix. Once again, Ciel was of a different opinion on the matter.

"Actually…I do have certain provisions available to me." The older boy said fishing a gold sovereign out of his coat pocket. "Let's return to the village and see exactly what we can find."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: last instalment of the At Leisure story arc. I have another arc planned and am merely awaiting further positive feedback for this effort to begin writing the next. Since this is the end of this story, please give your final reviews and summations of the plot with your opinions on whether Ciel's relationship with Clarence and the changes it has brought about in him are still in keeping with the character and have not strayed off-course. Please enjoy.**

 **Ciel and Sebastian, His Butler, At Leisure 13**

"By all the saints…" Harry Brayton murmured upon seeing the open chest filled to the brim with gold sovereigns and jewellery now sat in the middle of his pub. The two boys who had presented the find to him were both dirty and bloody, but smiling for obvious reasons. The pub owner tentatively reached forward and touched the treasure to confirm its reality. He nodded in agreement with what the two had said prior to unveiling this hoard. "You're right lads: this is the most bloody amazing find I've ever seen turn up in this village. Well done to the both of you. Fifty-fifty split is it?"

"I don't need any more wealth." Ciel said dismissively, "It all belongs to Clarence and whomever he wishes to share it with." Harry could not help but raise his eyebrows at this selfless gift. With the amount of gold in that chest, a person could buy themselves a small county or an entire town. He regarded the Cornish boy and was astonished by the lack of greed in his eyes. When the blond scooped two handfuls of the treasure from the chest and then presented it to him, Harry Brayton finally found himself properly lost for words.

"This is for you, Harry. Mum and me owe you a lot." Clarence said to make it impossible for the man to convince himself the gold was intended for someone more deserving. He swallowed hard but barely gave the gift itself a second glance. The boy's green eyes had him transfixed. All he could see was sincerity and warmth in them, a combination that was a little overwhelming for an old cynic like him to drink in all at once.

"I didn't do anything special for you folk. I think you and your mum should keep it and go on to better things than this dump and an old git like me. I'd bear you no grudges whatsoever. Honestly, I reckon…"

"You don't get to say 'no', Harry." Ciel said whilst indicating the crestfallen expression beginning to spread across the younger boy's face. "Let him give you it. It's all he wants." Harry rolled his eyes and sighed in defeat.

"Fine. Come put it behind the bar, lad." The man watched as his barboy gleefully scampered behind the solid oak bar and dropped the treasure to the floor with hell of a racket. When Clarence's next actions involved latching himself around Harry's waist and trying to squeeze the life out of him, the man was startled. He had been hugged like this before, by Clarence and his lovely mum before, but had never felt like this. Instead of his usual desire to tell them as nicely as possible to sod off or get thumped, Harry felt genuinely touched by the gesture. It was startling because he had not been touched by this sort of thing since his own son had hugged him, before all the unpleasantness. He ruffled the boy's hair and nodded. "You need a bloody good scrubbing, Clare-Clare." He said looking at the dust and dirt coating his hand, "Treasure or no treasure, your mum would have a right fit if she saw you looking like a mud monster. You too, little earl of the realm. Come upstairs and I'll sort you out."

"Perhaps you should take a break." Ciel said to their companion who knelt by the side of the tin bathtub and continued to scrub Clarence's hair with soap. When Sebastian had excused himself to attend to matters at the cottage, the older boy had thought no man would be capable of lifting the chest with the demon's ease. But Harry Brayton had not only lifted the chest but manhandled it up the backstairs and into his private rooms above the pub. A sensible precaution though it was, Ciel could not shake the feeling the exercise had done more harm than good. The man had winced pouring the bathwater, clutched his lower back whilst checking the temperature and then pulled a variety of comical expressions in standing up and getting back down. The man dismissed the suggestion with a strong hand gesture.

"It'll be your turn soon enough, little Lord Fauntleroy so mind yourself."

"I don't think that will be necessary." The older boy replied as he sat in the armchair by the fireplace. He would have excused himself whilst Clarence was bathed but was begged by the blond to stay and keep him company. It appeared he despised baths, a surprising revelation when considering how clean and well-kempt he always was.

"His mum is a humble woman, Ciel, but she hates dirty people. She scrubs him every other night herself after shift and never goes to bed without a wash. She once wouldn't shake my hand because I had a little speck of dirt on my little finger. Looking as you do, she wouldn't let you in her house. I wouldn't blame her either: you look like you've had a scrap with a Welshman down a mineshaft." Harry explained whilst rinsing the soap out Clarence's hair. He ran his fingers across the boy's scalp a few times before nodding. "Pristine again, lad. You can hop out now, towel's on bed." He crooked a finger at his other guest. "No standing on ceremony, lad. Kit off and in the bath."

"I would rather my butler attends to my hygiene requirements, if you don't…" Ciel was interrupted by a thick-fingered hand snatching his wrist and yanking him over to the bathtub. Harry shook his head.

"He's not coming back for a while. You can have a go washing yourself, but I reckon you'd miss loads if you did. If you're going to meet Clare-Clare's mum, you need to be spotless. One dab of dirt behind an ear and you're finished."

"I understand, Harry, but I'm really not comfortable with undressing in front of a stranger or having them touch me like that." Ciel countered only for Clarence to frown at him in confusion. The Cornish youth was still sat on the bed with only a towel to spare his blushes.

"Harry's a friend, Ciel, not a stranger. I know maybe adults haven't treated you nicely in the past, but you can trust him. Are you worried about him seeing your Willy? We've all got one you know: it's nothing new." Clarence assured him. Ciel had never heard that colloquialism, but knew what his companion was driving at. He shook his head.

"It wasn't that. I have…a scar on my back I'm not keen on anybody seeing."

"We've all got scars, lad. A boy like you has nothing to be ashamed of, I promise you." Harry said in a tone that oddly put the older boy at ease with the situation. It was becoming increasingly obvious that his social standing, upbringing and general demeanour meant very little to these people. To them he was not really an earl, just a boy and they were not deliberately belittling him by taking this attitude either. They did not care about exploiting his frailties or savaging his reputation. Every remark that could be hurtful was said in jest and even when it was not, everything was assumed to be a joke, not a barb.

Ciel reluctantly parted with his clothes and dressed into the bathtub. As a pub landlord began lathering up his hair with soap whilst a Cornish boy in nothing but a towel watched on and began to regale said landlord with a fabricated tale of how they acquired the treasure chest, the Earl Phantomhive allowed himself to smile. It was first and foremost for the absurdity of it all, the sheer lunacy that his week in Bartleby-on-Sea had thus far produced. However, he encountered strangeness on such a regular basis that this was nothing new: if he did not smile at the insanity of his life he would likely be crushed flat by its momentum. What was different was how much he was enjoying his holiday. He did not mind sitting in a tin bath with an audience when it was Clarence and Harry Brayton in attendance, just as he bore no ill-will towards Eileen Daughtry and her defamation against his character because of her cakes. He could even admire Father Gloyn for how staunch he was in his convictions about eternal damnation. Common people were nothing if not sincere. He also liked their total lack of fear when confronted with the unknown. He looked up at Harry.

"Would like to see something strange?" He asked the man as he was preparing to rinse the soap away. Harry was nonplussed.

"If you feel you must. As long as it's nothing rude, lad. Those sorts of things are grown-ups only, understand?"

Ciel nodded and then reached behind his head. A moment later, his eyepatch was on the floor and his pentagram clearly visible to both his companions. The pub owner's reaction was one of disbelief. He gently tilted the older boy's face into better light and scrutinised the eye in visible astonishment. "What do you think?" Ciel asked after a minute mired in silence.

"I think there must be a hell of a story behind something like that. It's not glass, is it? That's your actual eye."

"It's pretty." Clarence said having wrapped the towel around his shoulders and joined Harry at the side of the bathtub to marvel at the spectacle. Harry nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, but in a manly way of course."

The matter was dropped shortly after without Ciel having to supply an explanation. Harry merely advised him not to go showing it off around the village. The older boy was amazed at the man's lack of horror and revulsion, but had somehow expected such a subdued reaction too. People were very understanding here after all. Following his bath, Ciel was given some of Clarence's spare clothes to wear and found they fit quite well if one rolled up the sleeves to the elbow and pulled the shorts down somewhat. The blond boy dressed in clothes his companion had heard of but never seen. Instead of a shirt, Clarence wore a round-necked short-sleeved shirt, a garment Ciel understood to be called a 'T-shirt' in relation to its shape. And instead of shorts or trousers with suspenders, the youth wore dungarees, a tough denim-like set of overalls made from the Indian dungaree fabric that Ciel knew was quite popular in the United States for country-dwellers.

"Thank you for doing this." Clarence said as the pair walked across the village to the blond boy's home. "Are you sure I can just have all this money?" He asked whilst tilting his head back to indicate the knapsack stuffed with gold sovereigns slung over his shoulder. Ciel smiled.

"A treasure hunt should always end with treasure. Since the Malx was unwilling to part with its hoard, it's only fair you have something to show for all your efforts."

" _Our_ efforts, Ciel. I wouldn't have gone half as far without you here. Are you excited to meet my mum?"

"Of course. Does she know who I am as well?" The older boy replied before they passed the churchyard on their left. Clarence shrugged.

"Everyone knows who you are by now. The village has been gossiping about you for the last two days." Clarence said before appearing to consider something. "You were very brave to show Harry your eye like that. How did you know he wouldn't get everyone to chase you out of town?"

"He's too world-weary to be afraid of something like a contract seal in someone's eye. And you were right."

"Hmm?"

"I can trust him."

"I kind of guessed that much."

"When I showed him my eye?"

"No, when you said he could watch the 'treasure' for us while we went to my house."

They arrived outside a small, stone cottage on the fringes of the village. In the distance, Ciel could see a flourmill atop of a rolling green hill with a dirt path meandering its way up the gradient. He supposed that was where Clarence's mother worked during the day. It seemed hospitable enough.

"Will your mother not be at work? It's only the early afternoon." Ciel asked as the Cornish youth unlocked the door.

"Harry got word to her. She'll practically run over here since it involves me getting rich."

"Surely she's not that shallow."

"Of course not! But I'm her only son and we've never had much money between us. She gives most of her wage for my books and toys. She never lets herself have anything if it means me going without something. And after all the others…" Clarence trailed off as they entered the cottage and stepped into a bare hallway that branched off into four rooms with two wooden doors on either side. Ciel frowned.

"Others? Did your mother have other children before you?" The older boy said a little tentatively as he was led into the room on the far right. The blond boy sat on the bed inside, slung the knapsack on the mattress and puffed out his cheeks.

"Yeah…she had four children before she had me. None of them survived over a year and two of them were dead when they were born. Three girls and a boy. I never knew any of them. My dad left her after my brother died. A few weeks later, she found out she was pregnant with me. She tried to contact him, but he's never come back. I think he went to Ireland…or maybe even New York. She was never sure." Ciel had heard that rural life was harsh and unforgiving, particularly where childrearing was concerned, but not out and outright cruel. He could not imagine how a single mother with that kind of personal heartache and loss could find the strength to try and raise yet another child, let alone one as sunny and kind as Clarence. He did not want to either.

"Did your siblings die of illness? Scarlet fever and the like?"

"Pneumonia and smallpox." The younger boy responded without much difficulty. Ciel joined him on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Mum had to go through that and then live it all over again when I was old enough to ask about it. I think it was her faith in God that helped her move forward. She's got very strong faith my mum." Clarence offered with visible admiration and pride. His companion was not convinced faith alone had saved his mother from utter despair.

"You must've helped her."

"Not when I was a baby. I got sick all the time. The only difference between me and my brother and sisters is that I survived everything. Then when I turned three, I never got ill again. She says I'm like my dad, strong as an ox and healthy as a horse. She thinks I've got more of him in me than her and that's why I'm still here. God gave me my dad's strength and stubbornness to die. I'm grateful to him for that." The blond answered before breaking out into a smile and standing up. "Anyway, this is my room!" He extended his arms out to the sides and pirouetted in a small circle to show off the space, "Isn't it great?" Ciel looked at the two tall and heavy-looking bookcases beside the doorway and marvelled at how much the shelves were sagging. Clarence easily had the largest and heftiest book collection the older boy had ever seen for an eleven-year-old. The manor had an entire library of course, but that was inherited instead of self-made and was the product of more than a century of acquisition. This collection, some two or three hundred books had presumably only been gathered after Clarence had learned to read. That meant five or six years at the most. He cast his eyes elsewhere.

The Cornish youth had plenty of toys, many of which looked to have been carved by hand. Many of the carvings were of barnyard animals such as sheep and cows and had been appropriately painted. A diorama of a farm had been set-up on a set of Chester drawers with the animals grouped into pens alongside a miniature barn and farmhouse. Ciel also noticed his friend's room was not only wallpapered, unlike the rest of the cottage, but also carpeted. He knew such a thing was a luxury in this part of the country, especially amongst day labourers. He reached down and brushed it with his fingertips. It was remarkably soft. The window behind the drawers looked out onto the expansive nature of the ocean. Outside the sea was sanguine and islands were clearly visible on the horizon. It was little wonder Clarence liked to explore with such a tantalising view to wake to. The older boy nodded in agreement.

"It's wonderful. Did you carve those animals yourself?"

"I carved the pigs last year. Before that, Johnny would carve one for me every time he came ashore. He painted them himself and taught me to do the same. I think I got the first one before I could even speak English, maybe three-and-a-half. 'Thank you Mr Daughtry' was the first thing I learned to say in English but I came unstuck on his last name. He was always bringing me gifts. My dungarees and this T-shirt are presents from his trip to North America this spring." Clarence said with palpable sadness. The incident in the cemetery suddenly seemed so much worse with his new information. Risking Clarence's life with the Malx considering his mother's misfortune also made Ciel inwardly feel monstrous. He was also growing increasingly amazed at his companion's mastery of English. He knew his own fluency in French was an impressive feat, but he had tutors and privilege to ease the strain. Clarence had nothing but his own desire and mother's encouragement.

"I'm sorry about Johnny. I wish I had friendships that strong."

"Well you've got me and Sebastian."

"That demon is not my friend. But thank you for thinking ours is a strong friendship." Ciel opened his mouth to say more on the subject but was interrupted by a rush of feet from the hallway.

"Clemo? Are you here? Clemo?" A woman's fretful voice inquired from the hall.

"In here, Mum. We've got a guest."

A few moments later, a dark-haired plain-looking woman in her early thirties rounded the doorframe. Green eyes regarded the pair of them furtively before her pensive features relaxed. She walked in and hugged the blond boy. "Thank the Lord you're safe. I was so worried this morning I could barely work at all." She said letting him go. Her gaze drifted to Ciel and the newly stitched cut on his cheek in particular. "This is the earl everybody's been nattering about? Father Gloyn said he was a wicked bugger, but I don't see any of that in his face. I told him you wouldn't traipse about with the devil, Clemo, but he wouldn't believe me, said demons were in his company too. Bollocks is what I say to that rubbish." The woman said firmly before inclining her head. "I'm very happy to meet you, Earl Phantomhive. Am I supposed to curtsey or is that too much?" Ciel found being addressed by his actual title very strange after five days of informalities. He smiled genially.

"I would prefer you do nothing so ridiculous, Mrs Gwinnel. And please, call me Ciel: everybody else in this village does."

"It's Miss Gwinnel, Ciel. He might not have filed for divorce, but it'd be wrong to give him any credit for the lad I've raised. And if someone of your kind is going to sack off all the airy fairy stuff, it's only fair you call me Gwen. So, Harry's raving about you solving Bill Thomas' treasure hunt. He says you've got a big chest of riches like in that Treasure Island book you were reading me the other night. Is it true Clemo?"

"Yes, Mum." Miss Gwinnel stared at her son hard. Ciel got the distinct impression she was not easily deceived, especially when it came to her own child. She narrowed her eyes and the older boy felt Clarence shift his weight on the bed. He suspected she could be a very tough parent if necessary. It likely explained why the Cornish youth's manners and respectful attitude to adults was so refined at eleven when it usually took years longer to instil such things.

"Tell me the truth, Clemo or I'm going to have to get the switch. It might have been four years since I needed it, but God so help me…"

"Ciel gave it to me, Mum." Clarence said quickly. Gwen Gwinnel nodded in satisfaction.

"And why would he do something like that?"

"Because we didn't find any treasure on the island."

"What did you find, lad?"

"We found a malevolent demon, Gwen. And it tried to kill us all. Clarence and I managed to stop it but we came back empty-handed. We were concerned that others might fall foul of its trap so we thought…" Ciel explained when it became clear Clarence was struggling to articulate an answer. Gwen folded her arms and sighed.

"You thought pretending to have found Bill Thomas' treasure trove would stop people from going to the island and dying. Is that about the size of it?"

"You think it's nonsense, I take it?" The older boy said.

"I know I'm not a little girl anymore. And even though it sounds daft, I can tell it's the truth. Firstly, you could think up a better story than that in less than a few seconds and secondly, both you and Clemo can look me straight in the eye when saying that tripe. How'd the two of escape it?" The woman said with remarkable perception. Ciel could see where a lot of his friend's good traits came from now the source stood in front of him.

"His butler rescued us." Clarence answered. His mother nodded, again seemingly satisfied it was the truth.

"And how'd he manage that?"

"He's a demon too."

"Because?"

"I have a contract with him. I'll give him my soul in exchange for revenge on those who killed my family." Ciel replied with audible reluctance to volunteer such delicate information. Gwen looked horrified by this revelation.

"How old are you?"

"I'm thirteen."

"You poor thing."

"Don't feel sorry for me. I knew what I was doing when I agreed to the terms. I have no regrets. I just hope you will keep such a thing a secret." Ciel said when her face softened. There was no need for pity of any sort, not from a woman like her. It was done and that was that.

"So your gift is a bribe to keep us quiet?" Gwen asked in a disappointed tone. Ciel was quick to correct her.

"No. It is to stop anyone else being killed by that thing on the island. I just feel you should be the ones to distribute it as you see fit."

"We don't need your charity, Ciel."

"And I don't need you to stand on ceremony, Gwen. You know what kind of son you have raised and how much happiness his presence in this village has brought. You've given up so much to give him everything he could want. I'm sure if the villagers were able, they would reward you for bringing such a wonderful person into their lives, Eileen Daughtry and Harry Brayton especially I should think. I am not one for grand gestures. I just want you to accept my gift since it is barely a fraction of the wealth you and Clarence are owed." Gwen Gwinnel was incredulous.

"Is your tongue made of solid silver or something? That was one of the prettiest speeches I've ever heard outside of church. But if we accept the money, we can't be lording it over everybody or making fools of ourselves Clemo. If we take it, we give it to everyone. It's only fair everybody gets a piece of this gift. You understand that now, don't you?"

"Yes, Mum."

"You're a good boy, Clemo." Gwen said patting him affectionately on the head. She looked at Ciel. "Are you going to stay for dinner?"

"I don't want to impose."

"Nonsense. If you're going to give us all this money, the least we can do is give you a hot meal. Did Harry give you both a good wash?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Good. Now then, I…"

They were interrupted by two knocks on the front door. Ciel knew already that it was Sebastian. "Please allow me." The older boy said rising to his feet and walking to the door. He opened it and found the demon carrying the chest at waist-height without a hint of strain at the effort. The butler smiled and inclined his head.

"Young Master. I have brought the chest from Mr. Brayton with his compliments. Where would you like it placed?" Ciel rolled his eyes.

"Come inside and stop making a spectacle of yourself."

Ciel directed his servant to the living room on the left and ordered him to put the chest down in the centre of the bare floor. Clarence and his mother entered the room just as Sebastian placed it down. The demon smiled politely at Gwen whilst rearing up to his full height. It was now clear that the cottage did not cater to persons over six feet tall when the butler's head brushed the roof beams.

"Good afternoon, Madam. I am…"

"Ciel's pet demon?" The woman said scathingly to prompt a brief raise of the demon's eyebrows.

"That is one way of explaining my function. I am Sebastian Michaelis. Would you prefer I leave?"

"Unless he wants you to stay." Gwen said indicating Ciel to the demon's left. Sebastian's red eyes fell on his master.

"Your orders, Sir?"

"Have you taken care of the others at the cottage? Tidied the residence? Prepared dinner?"

"Of course, Master. What other work shall I undertake in your absence?"

"Take the night off. Do whatever you wish until tomorrow. Do not disturb me until I call for you. Understood?" Sebastian bowed low.

"Yes, My Lord. Enjoy your day."

Ciel could not recall ever experiencing what would pass for a normal dinner. His meals were always banquets, parties and ceremonial feasts. They did not exist on the quality of company or conversation but on the opulence of the décor and the strength of the guest list. The food could be made of cardboard and still, if there were enough silver candlesticks the whole spectacle would be deemed a triumph in the eyes of the gentry. Ciel loathed such occasions but had learned to tolerate them for the sake of his reputation. Here, in this Cornish cottage, Ciel had no reputation to maintain. He had no obligations to be polite or civil. There was no pressure from above or below to coerce him into playing sides for Queen, Crown or Country. It was this very lack of expectation to conduct himself properly that made it all the easier to be nice to his hosts. The food was simple, without any of the frills or culinary touches that made Sebastian's meals so complex, and yet somehow all the more filling. They had tomato and onion soup with some crusty bread followed by a beef pie and country vegetables. However, where this dinner truly separated itself from every high society farce was the depth of conversation.

Superficialities concerning wealth and memberships be damned at this table. Both Clarence and his mother were happy to give their guest a crash course in Cornish language and customs. Ciel in turn brought them up to speed on the dining experience in France which both seemed to enjoy, even if Clarence already knew some of it. Gwen was no longer horrified or despairing of the older boy's Faustian contract with a demon, nor was she overly keen for gathering finer details regarding the Malx on the island. She just wished to be a good host, a desire that was clear as soon as she burst into song after clearing away the pie leftovers. Despite her illiteracy, Clarence's mother proved herself well-versed in poetry, literature and song. She regaled Ciel with two verses of an Irish jig before her son joined her in seamless unison. Eventually, after much prodding during the bread and butter pudding, Ciel joined them in a rendition of the chorus. He found it surprisingly liberating. After dinner, Clarence walked with him to the opposite end of the village.

" _Kows orthiv yn Kernewek_." Clarence said as they passed Harry's pub. Ciel knew it meant his companion wanted him to show off what little he had learned during dinner. The older boy sighed tiredly before launching into what he could remember.

" _Ow hanow yw Ciel. Trigys ov yn London. Falta genes?"_ Ciel said, pleased he had managed to say his name and where he was from before asking how his friend was. The Cornish youth clapped him on the back.

" _Yn poynt da, meur ras._ Very good pronunciation!"

" _Meur ras. Parlez en Francais."_ The older boy replied, now expecting a similar effort from the blond in return. Clarence smiled sheepishly before reciting what had been stressed.

" _Je suis Clarence. J'habite a Cornwall. Ciel Phantomhive est mon ami. Alors?_ Have I got it?" Ciel could admit to being impressed with his efforts. He nodded in approval.

"You trill your Rs very well. I'd give you a good mark."

"Thanks. Mum really liked you in the end you know."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. You've kind of got your own effect on the people we meet. They all end up liking you in the end. It's better than never, right?" The Cornish youth said as they reached the edge of the village and their usual parting spot. Ciel nodded.

"Most definitely. So you're going to share the money around the village like your mother wants?"

"She knows best. I'd pretty much trust anything her and Harry tell me. If she thinks it's best to share the wealth, I do too." Clarence offered without a trace of confliction over an incredibly charitable act. In some ways the older boy envied his companion's humble view of the world. The whole situation must have seemed so simple to him, so wonderfully clear. London was never anything but black. Ciel nodded.

"You're very lucky to have such strong role models in your life. Did she really take a birch switch to you when you were younger?"

"Stuff like that is normal out here. In cities I think they use a cane, but it does the same job. Have you ever been disciplined like that?" Clarence asked. There was only one person or creature that had ever disciplined him in the name of education. Even here, the demon's influence was inescapable.

"Sebastian used to cane my hand when I was particularly poor in my studies. I don't receive such treatment anymore."

"Because you never muck it up anymore, right?" The blond said with a knowing grin Ciel could share. It made him feel almost normal to answer, and strangely proud as well.

"Yes."

"Me too. Four years since my mum whipped me for lying, almost two since Harry rapped me for dropping trays. Did your other tutors cane you or just him?"

"No-one else would dare cane a Phantomhive."

"Does he literally do everything for you?"

"Everything within reason, of course."

"This kind of feels like goodbye." Clarence said shoving his hands into his pockets. "But it isn't, right? You're here for another couple of days?"

"I will need to depart early on Sunday in order to arrive back by nightfall, but yes, we have another day together. I'm struggling to see how we can outshine what we've already accomplished, but we can certainly try." The older boy replied only for his friend to giggle and shake his head.

"No more crazy stuff this week or Mum will never let me out ever again! How about we just have fun tomorrow? We can swim, fish and play games all day long. You could probably use an actual holiday instead of what we've just done." Ciel sighed at the promise of a 'true' holiday. During the past week he had come to an unsettling conclusion about what his mind deemed relaxing compared with what was considered relaxing.

"Unfortunately, I believe this is what I constitute as being a holiday. I already feel oddly refreshed by it all. I imagine I owe that to you and your supporting cast."

"That's a theatre term, right? Something to do with plays and actors and things?" Clarence checked after a moment of thought. Ciel shrugged.

"Let's just call them your friends and family."

"My supporting cast."

"Exactly. Tomorrow will be fun."

"Of course it will. We've already won."

Ciel arrived back at the cottage before dusk. His servants were in the living room, playing board games. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. The boy did not really care. He joined them in a few games of Ludo, but left when it became clear he was either too proficient at strategy or they were allowing him to win because he was their employer. He retired to his room to read. An hour into his first edition of Charles Dickens' Bleak House, there was an unmistakable pair of knocks on his door. He told his caller to enter without looking up from the text.

"Forgive my intrusion, Young Master. I was just ensuring you were contented for the evening. Do you require anything?" Sebastian's voice asked from the doorway.

"No. I am both fed and bathed so your presence is nothing but a nuisance. Get out and do not return until the morning." Ciel said turning the page.

"Certainly, Sir. Good night." The boy heard the demon move to shut the door.

"Do you remember caning me for poor Latin translation?" Ciel asked a moment before the butler was closed out of the room. He heard the door stop in place.

"I recall every moment of my existence, Master. What of it?"

"Have you ever inflicted such punishment on previous masters?"

"No. I have never had a child for a master before."

"Do you think it has benefitted me?"

"You are the perfect gentleman. I have no doubt that would not be a reality if I had not exercised discipline, just as my skills as a head butler would be blunt if not for your constant criticism. Our relationship is symbiotic and all the better for it." Ciel's eyes ventured upwards until they found those of Sebastian who stood smiling blankly at him.

"I got bathed by a public house's landlord this afternoon."

"Mr Brayton did a fine job."

"I showed him my contract seal."

"Do I need to attend to the matter?"

"No. He is very discreet."

"That is gratifying. I am very fond of the humans in this village. They are most…stimulating. Is that all, Young Master?"

"What did you do with your afternoon?" The boy asked placing his book to one side and sitting up from his reclined position.

"I gathered your clothes from Mr Brayton, washed and mended them until fit to be worn by a gentleman of your status and then attended to other matters. I prepared food for tomorrow and the return journey to London. The horses were tended to, the carriage checked for serviceability…"

"All that might take an average servant a whole afternoon and perhaps a full night, but you would have completed all those tasks within an hour. What did you do after?" Ciel interrupted in a strict tone. He wanted no more trouble. Sebastian was liable to cause some if granted too long a rope. The demon's smile did not change in answering.

"I took a stroll along the coast, Young Master. The ocean and I are the oldest of companions since it is the only thing comparable to myself in age. I thought we might get reacquainted during the walk."

"And did you?" The boy inquired whilst gesturing for his butler to stop lurking in the doorway and actually enter the room to speak to him. Sebastian complied without fuss.

"In a way. Aeons have passed since its birth and still it keeps its secrets well hidden: alas I can no longer say the same. I think it would be fair to say our stay here has robbed me of my secrets whilst liberating you of yours." The demon remarked drawing up alongside the bed. There was no trace of anger at this analogy. Sebastian evidently did not care if his true nature was known or by whom. Ciel privately wished he could embrace such an attitude instead of just assuming it for his public image. He supposed to truly have a devil may care approach to life, one would have to be a demon to begin with.

"I do feel liberated. And very relaxed. I wish to thank you for persuading me to come back to Penzance instead of to Oxford for my holiday. And also for all your other efforts this week to ensure I find and keep a friendship. I doubt there are any other butlers who would goad me into these matters with your persistence." Ciel admitted with the thinnest of smiles. It was always painful to admit a soul-eating creature had greater knowledge of his mind than he did himself, but even this was something Ciel was comfortable saying aloud this week. Sebastian reacted to this by closing his eyes and returning a shake of the head in disapproval.

"You should not say such things to a butler, Master. It gives the impression you consider them more than a mere servant. Such an attitude is improper for a nobleman of your standing." Ciel rolled his eyes, tired of the rhetoric speeches and their frequency.

"Save that tripe for London. Compliments are a rarity for you so I would simply accept it in good faith."

"Well then thank you for your kind words, Sir." Sebastian said with a low bow. The boy considered how much of a courtesy to extend his shadow in light of all that had transpired. He sighed.

"You might as well call me Ciel tonight. Everyone else has. Consider it a token of my appreciation."

"I am bound by the butler's code to not engage in such familiarities. It breeds contempt."

"I already hate you so pay it no mind. Do not make me order you to say my name. It will be an embarrassment for us both." Ciel said. The demon inclined his head in amicable submission.

"Very well. I must say your attitude this evening is unusually…bright, considering the trials of the day. I take you and Clarence will be enjoying one another's company tomorrow? Need I prepare anything specific for your leisurely activities?"

"No, I already have a happy ending to my time in Cornwall. The only thing I require of you is to maintain it. Do not allow any tragedy to ruin this victory for me. Understand?"

"Yes, my…Ciel."


End file.
